James Callan

Beautiful Head

An opulence of cock
champagne foam
down the shaft
A bounty of boobs
and caramel thighs
caught in fishnet fabric
bursting with butt
pulsing with need
a moving muscle
in my pocket.
Crystals and mirrors
smoke and scents
perfume and sweat
Sit on my lap—
can you feel it?
Techno beats
and sweet teats
disigner heels
on woolly feet.
Love that shade
on your lips
around my finger
on my schlong
and the rings are cold
like your ice blue eyes
that you insist are green.
Can we get a second opinion?
Okay, so they’re green.
I get lost in those eyes
getting lost in the heat
of the moment
and the throng of
limbs and giant asses
bumping my legs
and concussing your
beautiful head.