Tuesday, November 26, 2013

Erotic Poem

The Well-Oiled Machine

The car effortlessly shifts into a higher gear, its engine purring at the increase in acceleration.
Pedal to the floor, the transmission grunts and responds, vaulting the car forward.
The gears grind while the car works like the well-oiled machine it is.
The driver slams on the brakes, the car screams and gasps as its tires rub roughly against the hard road.
Panting, the car rests shortly before resuming its race,

Where its engine hums and vibrates in a hypnotic sigh. 

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