The entree

And now the entree

" Torrid witnesses of our amative nights
Strewn thick with fallen sandal dust
This bed, my darling, is not soft anymore
For your lissom limbs to be laid upon
"What a ruse! saying thus my rouguish paramour
Upon his prostrate chest clasps me tight
Sucking my lips - the while his toes
As tongs draw down my skirt.
And then
He goes on to do the things
He though most meant to do.