Bent Over

Kitchen counter presents me
a luscious spread. All the blood has  
gone to my other  
head.    
   
Tempted to bury my engorged tip,    
your wine is what I must sip.   
From slow to.....fuck me......  
You give confirmation   
by biting your lip.  
   
Teasing each layer, and   
savoring every flavor,   
I'm always obliged to   
do this little favor.   
   
Tantalizing your neck all the   
way down to your crack, this   
tongue is out and ready for   
it's final attack.  
   
Tongue meets your   
rose bud, and lips proceed to  
hover, as you begin to  
buck and shutter.   
   
Though you're close, I   
must continue to linger,   
then speed things up   
working magic with my  
finger.   
   
Your heat is enough to   
bake a cake, I grip  
your ass and the walls   
within begin to shake.  
   
Tempting as it may be to  
fill you with all of me, I  
take my time and devour   
your lovely sea.   
   
After number two you   
beg me to be inside   
you.  
   
Don't mind if I do.