High Heels

She was wearing high heels;
Five,
Maybe,
Six inch heels;
Way up there —
To make up for,
What she said,
Was being so short.

Well,
Maybe.

I liked them;
For the curve,
They gave to her,
Legs,
The lift,
They gave to her,
Butt —
And,
For the tightness,
They produced,
In the curve of her ass,
When I bent,
Her over the edge of the table;
Flipped her skirt,
Up over her back,
Pulled her panties,
Down to her ankles;
And,
Stepped back,
To admired her —

Before,
Unbuttoning,
Unzipping,
Dropping,
My pants to my ankles;
Pushing my shorts,
Down,
Below my knees,
Stepping up to her —

Placing my hands on,
Her butt cheeks,
Caressing them,
Messaging them,
Stroking between them,
Teasing,
Fondling,
Playing,
With her clit,
Separating her,
Pussy lips,
Proudly displayed,
Between her thighs,
By the arch given,
To her ass,
By those heels.

It was a natural thing,
To follow the path of my fingers,
By rubbing the head if my cock,
Between her ass cheeks,
Down past her ass hole,
Between her thighs,
To that far more,
Interesting,
Inviting,
Welcoming,
Cunt.

And,
With a sigh of pleasure,
Pushing,
My cock,
Between her pussy lips,
Into her cunt.

My sighing sound of pleasure,
Was answered by hers,
Welcoming,
Urging me,
To thrust,
To drive,
To,
Even,
Hammer,
My cock,
With increasing force,
Into her cunt.

Until,
We,
Both,
Released,
Our pent-up,
Sexual tensions —

I,
By flooding into her,

She,
By the convulsing,
Contracting,
Of her cunt,
Milking my cock,
Of all it had to offer.

And sealed,
By me,
With a set of teeth marks,
Left on her ass.