Commanding and adept your hands guide mine along
supple lips.
Pausing
She tastes of cinnamon.
She squirms but can not move.
She is not afraid.
Our hands grasp her neck.
Tonight she belongs to us
With every gasp she moans.
My mouth is quivering, thinking about tasting her.
I search for her thighs from my satin darkness.
They are warm, wet, and inviting like the ocean
she tastes of salt and sunshine.
My tongue glides over her vagina , slowly, tenderly as our body heat rises and
then crack goes the cat o' nine.
She can not breathe and I can not see yet there has been no greater ecstasy.