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mistress
mistress Still sleeping, Sweet Mistress eyes closed to morning sun taking the deep red coverlet in trembling fingers i lift it away from Your breasts i may drink in their fullness sheerest black veils nipples kissed with pink the sudden of cold twists them to attention She stirs further down the coverlet a shiver escapes Her luscious form my index finger traces hollow of neck to fullness of mound two fingers now tracing lips lazy with sleep smooth, dusky i feel the<b> damp </font></b>as my own soft moaning escapes Sweet Mistress's white throat running moistened fingers up from deepest secrets to mountain top and back again lips eased open petals exposed slowly teasing the nectar from the flower beginning to swell under my loving eye i shall write a poem, Mistress with my tongue as quill etching desire upon the book of Wisdom Your essence shall whisper from its pages 'yes, my pet... yes...' clay perry |
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