Black Sea Salt Sex Spin

The room spins and my blood sings
and we dance dementedly
round and round we go
who will cum first
nobody knows.
Must have been that coke
spiced with crystal coke
that was twice as bitter as salt
that makes her taste twice as sweet as sugar.
We sweat and spin
to the latest eurozone europop
as I explore her erogenous zones
with lips, fingers, hips and feet.
The name tag pulses to the beat
inviting my gaze to her cleavage
and while we writhe
I wrench it off with my teeth.
As the black sea laps outside
and the mainc music plays in the background
here and now her limbs shine with sheen
and I explore the marvelous mountains,
with fingers fondling forth in travel.
Every word sings sweetly in her syrup mother-tongue
but her breathlessness sounds better
as my lips nip her neck incessantly.
Her hips are cannabis and I'm hooked
and her breasts are cocaine I'll snort up.
The room spins and my blood sings
off my head as she gives head.
She only wants to go west,
but I've gone and come.