She's a he

There are little hearts in both of my eyes,
Staring at boy-shorts busy with the toil
That binds the universe,
Creating the perfect counterpoint
To the cleft, that pair of smiles
At the bottom of all perfect asses
Lacey, netted, taught
My eyes follow the trail of crosshatching
Until they reach the garter;
The gateway to eighteen inches
Of spanking delight
Tacky polyester fur in magenta,
I am knee deep in someone elses old love.
Two pearls, blue and devoid of insight,
Two brilliantly crafted beads,
My spring like resilience is fixating, i guess.
Which brings one to the small of the back,
Alabaster spoon to suck clean again,
There, pleading with me to lick every last
Trouble of the day into oblivion,
That ass gives me faith.