She’s beautiful when she’s horny. She’s radiant during sex. I like to eat her. Like pudding. Licking an invisible spoon coated with her cream. I like to sip her slowly. Dry wine spike with dollops of sweet honey.
Her devilish thigh kisses and cooing breasts are all the nourishment I need.
For her I am always hungry. Starving for more. The feast of her flesh. It consumes me. A paradox most satisfying. I lose myself inside her. Swallowed up in the journey of her touch. A traveller lost.
She tastes, but does not swallow. Open mouth. Wagging tongue. Her womanhood ruptures. Soaks my lips. Stains my method.
She’s barely a woman. And yet, that is what she’s always been. Soft folds pet the wolves as they hunt. Sticky with the moment.