I laughed when you said I was café au lait.

I’ll make sure you... stay up... late,

You make my kitty cat purr,

my Italian Monsieur.

My brothers to you bragged about size and girth

The smile on your face, one of mirth

you talked about skill and having only a hammer

all they could do was stammer.

I fondle your gift, an Italian horn

dreaming of another, both my lips to adorn.

Nestled between my breasts,

your creamy deposits and words of love, so attest.

A Nubian Princess, is how you treat me,

You always take me where I want to be.

it never matters, once we’re past the door.

Voulez vous coucher avec moi ce soir?

Your tongue entices and excites,

evoking many sensual delights

In more places than one

feeling your explosion, is such sexy fun.

Brothers don’t understand

no lady likes being issued commands.

To my wrath, you don’t respond

Your arms enfold me, until I’m calmed.