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Oaken Firkin

Tags: erotic
A hogshead of brimming swill,
Cask of ale brewing still,
Within bowels of oaken firkin. 
I thirst.
Pewter of my tarnished chalice,
In eeriness I drink myself to sleep,
Of dreams I lay down to lust,
The succubus of Dallionshorn.

In moments of blink, I peek,
Her breasts of teardrops I seek. 
Quest of eyes, my sighs cry,
Precum of the dew, I have for she.

In creaks of my chilling bones,
Marrow of my spine frozen,
Risen of the throbbing member,
Night of winter's December. 

Serpent's tongue, cast away bung,
Like a spirit swirling my manhood,
The stout of my evening spew,
Within the bowels of oaken firkin.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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