The pleasures you seek,
are waiting when you reach the peak,.
Climb those mountains of pink,
at the crest take a drink.
Stake your claim, plant your banner,
you are lord of the manor.
You’ve conquered the heights,
indulge yourself in the delights.
Answer the call to my rally,
descend into the valley.
Journey down alabaster thighs,
to the sounds of sighs and cries.
Sweet treasures await,
when you open and enter the gate.
Let your imagination explore,
the reeling, feeling standing at the precipice.
From the summit, you soar,
then plummet down canyon walls, into the abyss.
A flood of sweetness, wet and warm,
rains down like a Summer storm.