Brush (an acrostic poem)

 

Black hair slowly pulled through his fingers

Releasing the locks he began to get to work

Unkempt snarls scraped by, but he gently unraveled them

Soon he was able to sweep his hands through easily

Her moans of pleasure reminded him how much he liked being a hairdresser

 

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Lust (an acrostic poem)

Leroy whistled at the way her dress made a puddle on his floor

Until that moment he had been a happily married man

Still there was a small part of him that yelled to run away

Too bad it was drowned out by her moans