Walking Her Home

The brilliant purple of her lips
accents every vowel formed,
a perfect shade against her ebony skin
telling me how she needs to get right with the ache.

"Been awhile," she confesses.

She has eliminated space
to feel the pulse of my vibration
arm hooked around my waist
the generosity of her breast
gently rubbing against my side.

Her arm ventures further
sliding into my pocket
"feels pretty good for a pale boy,"
she jokes.

She carries the scent of paradise
the loveliest of the world
rolled in a bouquet of wildflowers.

Those lush lips take me
working my mouth
training it to respond
while keeping my dick
lightly massaged.

We have arrived at her destination.

"Hope we can do this again," she says.

So smart of her
to leave me like this.

"I wasn't kidding," she reminds me.

The ache transferred.