Your hands are bound,
You make no sound,
Other than a murmur.
I paint your skin,
With lips and sin,
Sense your rising fervour.
I lick your ****
Your juicy slit,
Slide in my eager finger.
Sword drawn from sheath,
Pressed oh so deep,
Oh what sweet, sweet, pleasure
Nov 3, 2019
Nov 3, 2019 at 6:21 PM UTC