"More ice, baby!" You're cold like a martini on ice, like ice in a martini chill. So intoxicating, a thrill. Like icicles from childhood days, tempting the tongue to taste their freeze, Cooling the mouth with winter's tease. So sweet, and all that sweetness streams From my wild fantasies and dreams. "Icicle melts, icicle melts," Dripping slow, the icicles felt. I crave to lick you soft and sly, then pull away with a cheeky grin, Staring bold into your eyes, sinning. Defying bans, I've savored your core, And suddenly you're clear, pliant, no more. Your silver dew will gleam on my lips so fine, Like sunbeams bursting on a frosty morn divine. I'll love forever memories anew— You: cold as ice in martini brew, Intoxicating as gin-kissed dew, Melting, sparkling like boy-licked spikes under spring sun's glow true. When? When will the icicle melt, the icicle, icicle?
