Of Innoceni Pleasures

Barbara (7-H-2) FPE

The strain of the day

Simply passes away

In the warmth of my perfumed tub. The texture of skin

Now as smooth as a pin

Glows pink from a rough towel rub.

The sense of delight

As my girdle I fight

Till I lose and it takes possession.

The tautness of grip

As it firms up my hip

And narrows my waist by compression.

How can I explain

Without showing distain

The feeling of soft nylon hose.

Their sheerness, their hue,

Their feel in a shoe,

Unless one already knows.

Or that cute little bra

Or the cream in the jar

Or the lovely white slip with its lace,

Or the winter white sweater

Or yet something better

The makeup I put on my face.

The feeling of sweetness

Of almost completeness,

As I put on my pretty blond hair.

Then I look in the glass

At a comely young lass

Who's so happy in what she can wear.

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