Stalker’s Moon

Her night begins in light of day,

As she builds her fantasy;

When evening comes she will hunt her prey,

Her plans made out so carefully.

No bra or panties shall she wear,

Her dress she wants on her body tight;

The bounce and sway of her breasts so bare,

She walks into a room such a stunning sight.

No one knows how attraction rules,

It happens without any thought;

The heart decides who’s the fool and who’s cool,

And the next thing you know you are caught.

Without any web or net or hooks,

You think you are there of free choice;

But the weapons she used was her mind and her looks,

As you sit humbled and trapped by her voice.

Taking you home with a predator’s skill,

A trophy to be stripped and mounted;

You lay fully exhausted and perfectly still,

And try to remember the orgasms counted.

Was it four or five or six yet to come?

Could this woman ever be sated?

Through the curtains shines the dimmest sun,

Was it time once again to be mated?

Her nights end in the light of each day,

And a new hunt will begin very soon;

So all must beware of becoming her prey,

As she hunts in the light of the Stalker’s Moon.