When she calls me ‘cross the waves of time and space,
With nothing more than a whisper of her heart,
It’s as if I feel her presence, before I see with my eyes.
Closing my eyes, I feel her caress,
And it sends a tingle down my spine.
As my manhood swells,
She kneels and performs her act of worship.
The hum of her mouth sends shivers flying around.
She absorbs, inhales, and devours my willing part,
Quaffing my all.
I lead her to the high altar,
Held there by nothing more than her desire to please.
I trace my fingers over every inch of her form,
Taking care to give little sparkling bursts of bliss,
And building layer upon layer of pleasure.
As lips and fingers caress tender sensitive places,
Her want builds.
Fingers climb her fleshy mountains,
Squeezing, clutching, and compressing her stiff peaks.
Muffled cries escape her lips, as want pours forth.
Parting her legs,
It is as if tiny diamond fragments scatter,
As numerous as the stars in a black velvet sky.
Frisson hits me, as I lap her sacred space,
Claiming diamonds with my tongue,
Swirling and dipping,
Parting, then impaling her, with my spike of joy.
Resonating, within your trembling lips,
Thrusting, inhibitions strip away.
Our frenzied peak collaborates in perfect harmony.
YOU ARE READING
Nectar Seeker
Kurzgeschichtenshort stories on fantasies and memories of my debunchary
