Dead Poets Society: Wesleyan University Chapter

The Dead Poet's Society, the infamously top-secret (oxymoronic?) club that you want to be a member of, is no longer conducting regular meetings. This is what I like to call "taking a break." It had to be this way... there was something coming between us... that thing, of course, being the Atlantic ocean, as I (andrea) am currently studying abroad in Germany. So, to fill the gap in all of our souls, for the first time ever, I bring to you: The Best Of The Dead Poet's Society. This week's choice is a classic, inspired by a poem about Sam's mother, and the challenge to begin and end a poem with the phrase, "licking clit."

4/15/2004 - "On Foss Hill"

Licking clit licking clit licking clit
And by licking I mean
Gently running my longing tongue over budding essence
Sweet sensual and sticky
Oozing with nectar
Dripping
Can’t miss a drop
She reaches out
And grabs my bosom
as I run my lips across her lips
We moan
And lick
In unison
And we open like treasure chests
Something buried deep within
Ecstasy pouring out like a faucet
Greedily snatching at snatches
Our lips open wide
We run our tongues
Our cunts open wide
We run our tongues
Over each side
Under each side
Finally inside
She giggles with delight
Soft sensual laughter
Making her body quiver in anticipation
Rising within her
Like bubble gum bubble bath
Like smoke from a fire
Like the tides coming to shore
Popping, burning and splashing
Fingers fumbling over tender flesh
Embracing essences explode
Licking clit licking clit licking clit