When my thighs shake more fiercely than my ragged breaths,
When my nipples ache, dark with the throb of my heartbeat, and my hips are painted with the bruised colors of your fingertip grip,
When my whole body trembles at your touch and I whimper at the whisper of your lips,
When I am spent and sated from the dance of your tongue, the tease of your teeth, the demand of your fingers,
When the wet of your mouth has drenched us both and the slightest shiver of air leaves its traces in goosebumps on my skin,
When I have taken (been given) all the pleasure you think I can,
There is only one thing I need from you, love.
Only one thing (pleasepleaseplease):
.
.
.
.
.
MORE.
oh hell yes! MOR!!
Heh. And now I’m thinking of Christopher Walken’s SNL skit…
MOAR cowbell! 😛
Hahahaha— a lovely piece… and yes, More Cowbell. 😀
😀
All consuming passion eats you alive and it’s so delightful. And a mind meld is stronger than any physical connection, but the physical is still, and always, fun.
I’d rather enjoy being eaten, in one particular sense of the word. One of the nicknames my ex christened me with was Peaches, and for good reason. 😉 (Of course, he also called my vagina “the rabbit” – which made for an odd trip when a later lover started calling me Bunny.)