FIRST TIME
“…The evening was scented with clover…”
G’day, this is a little poem what I writ …
I remember the first time I tried it … I was only a lad of thirteen … Although she was younger than I was … She was far more composed and serene.
It was out in the bush, I remember … At the close of a long summer’s day … The evening was scented with clover … And the fragrance of new-mown hay.
I remember I moved a bit closer … And, truly, I meant her no harm … I moved my fingers slowly over her … And she nestled her head on my arm.
The sweet, earthy scent of her body … The breezes that suddenly fanned … The wondrous touch of her nipples … So soft and warm in my hand.
Our breathing that raced with each other … The moans that soared and then sank … As I tenderly explored all the mysteries … In the regions of belly and flank.
So sweetly she suffered my groping … And nuzzled with barely a bawl … To give me the aura of coping … As she willingly offered her all.
Many years have passed since it happened … But I’ll never forget it, I vow … The thrill and the joy I felt as a boy … On the day I first milked a cow.
-R. Corcoran, Darwin, Australia.
