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A Storm In A C-Cup
Sitting in a feathery chariot
rigid, yet bouncing
an attraction to the eyes popping-up
and gently persuading.
Doesn't matter
size or colour
when men stare.
Would help though, if they're slightly bare,
all day
and into the night
They stand at attention, in the way,
waiting I think - for a bite.
A storm in a C-cup
stares,
always
in the right direction
and follows up
with pleasure and satisfaction.
I welcome
the racy temptation
over and over again,
no shame!
Storm in a C-cup
pucker up.
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Snowflakes 
