He's thrilled by finger's gentle feel
Of a garment not designed for him;A precious moment he can steal
To succumb to his delightful whim
A skirt's sharp pleat or gentle fold
Can whisk him to a world of rapture;
There's no escape, he's in the hold
Of his imangination's capture.
He strokes, he feels, he finds his joy,
And gets close to total bliss;
An unpretentious girly boy,
Lost in his dream of one sweet kiss.
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