I dream of a fruitful kind of love with you, where we crave for each others sweet sappy bodies.
Where you bite my lip as if it were the freshest of strawberries your mouth has ever tasted, where you **** on my ******* the same way you eat a ripe tender plum in the summer, and then watching me melt into my own nectarous juices.
A fruitful kind of love where you love the way my tongue dances on your neck all the way down to your torso, like you are a peach whose succulent flavour is dripping and I have to try with all my attentive mite to not waste a single drop.
Where in the end, we are left with sugary mouths and exhausted bodies but still having enough fruitful energy for another round.