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Image for the poem Remnants ( of a Valentine

Remnants ( of a Valentine's Treat)

�
Is she my gift
or am I her treat......?
�
�...her fingers,
delicate yet hungry
grasp the crinkled edges
of the foil
�
unwrapping me with care
�
down upon her knees �
enveloped in the softness
of vanilla shade
�
hands sliding inside the
placket of my boxers blue,
the hot, musky smell of my sex �
rising from within ....."I know this much is true"
�
my fingertips twisting those �
long black locks of hair as this
celebration of lust doth begin
�
�the landslide bought me down.......�
�
the allure of a man's virility
does not negate the sweetness
of his confectionery treat
her wet red lips
indulging in the taste �
suckling spittle
her mouth does eat......this man's meat
�
�.�just like tropical candy� �
�
rolling his essence about her tongue
hands gripping hold
his hot ass cheeks
hips rolling
just about to cum......so sweetly
�
and no less a man.
she strokes his length
fore and aft
�
"can you feel the magic in her hands?"
�
rubbing him the right way.....(mmmm, how the �candyman� can)
�
delicious drippings �
that flow from her lips, �
down her chin
�
a precursor to other
magical moments �
stirring to a boil
deep inside her �
�volcano land�
�
My trumpet wants to blow........(to B continued)