a rendering

she pens,
of the velvet
needing to be fed,
on my knees, as if to beg.
the movement of her thighs.
as they become wide.
her hands push
open,
so to wish, to divide, to dive...inside.
my tongue wiggling
upon the velvet's nub
wet and firm, to guide and ride.
oh the velvet....
deliciously pink.
cleverly i wish, i think
watching all
of the velvet's cushiony walls,
gripping and pulsating
giving off a beauty,
deservingly, in a multitude of rhyme.
as the toes curl...
with the stroke of a finger, this time.
reach for the velvet.
spread the petals. more and more
the split of wet,
for it is your sweetness,
that is what lures.
oh how, the velvet brings one to beg
as the sucking...
beginning,
ripe, the plucking.
of the velvet being, fed.