Categories > Original > Poetry0 Reviews
Turning, climbing you, my cherry tree
carefully placing my limbs upon yours,
Each shift with pensive deliberation,
anticipating each move that brings me closer to the
Pinnacle where I ravenously consume the sweet fruit of rapture
letting juice trickle down my face, neck, breasts and thighs then you,
in playful mock torture let your teeth clench my tongue,
The device I use to spill the language of lust through
every crevice of this slice of fallen heaven that lies before me.
I grasp your hips,
Letting your hands explore every remote corner of my surface
not wanting my body to be one moment in the absence of your succulent flesh,
That when plastered upon mine swirls into one maddening delicious rhapsody
of wicked pleasure fulfilled.