his mouth.

a breathtaking infusion,
of force and firmness,
soft and slow,
awakening an ache,
and coaxing it to grow,
saturating heated skin,
with moisture,
made along my curves,
savoring escaping sounds,
tasting tender nerves,
a trail of gasoline,
left by the wetness of his tongue,
setting me aflame,
in the soft valley of my chest,
heaving to keep still,
beneath wherever,
his ready lips are pressed.


10 thoughts on “his mouth.

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