Corset cinched. Set your breasts upon a ledge
pressed in lace. Your nipples just visible
but one kiss will bring them over the edge.
Will you pout? Will you dare me to gargle
your cum? Read your clit like braille fat on
my tongue? Half undressed, you writhe, impatient
your folds dripping with anticipation —
for lips to inhale you, breathe your pungent
lust, make you sloppy just thinking about
grinding down the itch in your pubic bone.
It’s where my tongue goes. Why you get fingered.
This is my need to suckle, make you shout
as I quench a thirst as of yet unknown,
feed a hunger yet to be discovered.