Because we never do any of the cool stuff for my BL class except for crappy poetry, this is the poem I'm writing my essay on:
The Imperfect Enjoyment
By John Wilmont, otherwise known simply as Rochester
(Just the first 20 lines)
Naked she lay, clasped in my longing arms,
I filled with love, and she all over charmes;
Both equally inspired with eager fire,
Melting through Kindness, flaming in desire,
With arms, legs, lips close clinging to embrace,
She clips (hugs) me to her breast, and sucks me to her face
Her nimble tongue, Love's lesser lightning, played
Within my mouth, and to my thoughts conveyed
Swift orders that I should prepare to throw
The all-dissolving thunderbolt below.
My fluttering soul, sprung with the pointed kiss,
Hangs hovering o'er her balmy brinks of bliss.
But whilst her busy hand would guide that part
Which should convey my soul up to her heart,
In liquid raptures I dissolve all o'er,
Melt into sperm, and spend at every pore.
A touch from any part of her had done 't:
Her hand, her foot, her very looks a cunt.
WHAT! I read this and then my jaw dropped. THIS HAS GOT TO BE THE DIRTIEST POEM OUT THERE. EVER.
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