You were my private dancer,
We danced all night long.
You were my private dancer,
Just like in Tina's song.
The club was hot,
But you were cool,
Danced with every mother's fool.
And slowly turned me on.
They made their rush,
But you told them, "Hush."
And left them spin on their stool.
I was your private dance tool.
Home at last, midnight long past,
You turned the red light on.
Turned the music up, renewing the blast.
Like the energy Jim Beam turned on.
I sang Elvis while we matched pelvis,
Under that bloody good light.
You in your Victoria Secret reds,
Me in low slung red brief threads.
Your nipples were taut
To feel them I sought.
While manhood came unconfined.
We danced on as one entwined.
Having to pee, outside went we.
In the glare of a full spotlight.
My long arcing spurt did no hurt,
Nor your squat gushing by my side.
Our pleasure here, nothing to fear.
Just the heat of our passion and relief.
To see us like this was just a mirror,
A rush to the heart of the love thief.
Our bladder's relieved, we returned to the dance,
Under the red glow of our night.
Retiring to bed it came to a head,
Our love cries danced in their own light.
This book is an autobiographical account of the lessons I learned about life and how I was able to apply them to inspire, motivate and empower others in my own work as a firefighter, as well in my daily life as a husband, a father and a man. When I w
Rosetta was born in 1909 as the youngest of ten children. The family had more laughter than money and neighbors would knock on their door to ask, "Can we come in and laugh, too?"
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