When you get down
On your knees in front of me
I panic:
                 “Please don't.”

I'm so used to
  Being the one to kneel
  Being your submissive
  Being the one
To caress your sensitive sugar cookie
With the tip of my tongue
Just not the other way around:
                 “Stop.”

I'm scared
Because what if
You don't like the way I taste
What if
I'm not sweet enough for you
The thought
Burns up my insides:
                 “please don't…”

But when you plant
A candy coated kiss
On my quivering
Inner thigh
I can feel myself
Dripping
My frosting
Creating a damp oval
On the bed spread
A gentle moan escapes my lips:
                 “stop…”

Yet
Your body is hungry
And my words
Only make your stomach growl

So you lean forward anyway
And kiss away at the sugar
My tension growing:
                 “Please don't. Stop.”
Dripping and melting
Into a pleading whimper
                 “Please don't stop.”

Evidently
I seem to be sweet enough for you.