SWEET SIXTY-NINE

Sweet sixty-nine:  
on you I dine,  
a table bare  
(shaven of hair)  
while you append  
my other end.  
 
Post disrobing,
tongues are probing
at the sweet spot
each of us got,
cheeky tending
their nerve ending.

Legs round my head  
upon the bed,  
your arms around  
me, upside downed,  
while nurturing  
my erecting.  
 
In bliss I'm hung  
upon your tongue,  
feeling it grow,  
while tasting flow  
of the honey  
from your cunni.  

Your fellating
stimulating,
as sensations,
like vibrations,
set hips moving
to tongue soothing.