Sonnet 69
So now I reached the age of full consent.
My tongue at last can flutter on some clit —
her mouth a scabbard for my sword (her scent
will make me drunk with love, I must admit).
Until that day, the numbers don’t perform
to make that “three-six-oh” degree design.
But when it comes, there’ll be a thunderstorm
and on each other’s love-juice we will dine.
For cunnilingus is no common word.
Fellatio is equally obtuse.
Now, one year short of seven-oh, I’m stirred
to find some willing darling to seduce.
The time to make those body-parts align
is surely at the age of sixty-nine!
© Alan Morrison, 2018
The Naked Troubadour 
Mar 3, 2018 at 1:21 am
That’s epic!
On Fri, Mar 2, 2018 at 4:19 PM, The Naked Troubadour wrote:
> thenakedtroubadour posted: ” So now I reached the age of full consent. My > tongue at last can flutter on some clit — her mouth a scabbard for my sword > (her scent will make me drunk with love, I must admit). Until that day, the > numbers don’t perform to make that “three-six-oh” degre” >
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