her fingers dance
over flower petals.

the pinkish hue
slowly turning to red.

as the movement quickens,
her digits dampen.

the soft caressing
escalating to furious fondling.

the sheen of her skin
is bright from the sweat.

angelic moans escape her lips,
and her back arches.

the ****** of the story-
after all, this is what she came for.

how can what feels so heavenly
be considered so unholy?