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Nirvana’s Desires

Swirling his ravenous hunger      
Ever so gently over my toes        
Interweaving the tip of his eager tongue            
Between the spaces of its existence          
Snail pacing his enthusiastic soft tongue up my inner thigh          
To the waiting parcel of my sacred sap            
            
Palming the cushion of my buttocks          
Inhaling the epitome of my scent            
The elixir of my lustful extracts setting upon the throne of his lips          
Drawing me closer unto the depth of his feast          
The fixation of his oral hibernation          
    
With care, siphoning my juices with each lick          
The cuspid of my being            
Arching my back in submission          
Under the mastery of his touch            
His agitated taste of me, my need          
    
Mm… the extension of his tongue          
Pollinating my milky way          
My hair gripped in a moment of heightened lust          
Rendering me destitute          
Gyratory to his mouth, my hips seesawing to the ritual of his tongue            
    
Fighting his resistance to complete me          
Oh, sweet mercy, his tongue fastening deeper, quicker      
Snaking inside my eternity, tasting the moans of my destiny            
Soft precipitation of my silken flavor manifesting for his liking    
His tongue immersing within the Holy grail of my offering          
    
Sheets clenched in anticipation          
Back arched, heavy pants, stealing my shallow breaths          
Sandwiching my breasts in the brocade of moisten desires    
The fate of my saturating ecstasy locked against his face          
Calls of mysticism, echoed in peal sure, his head palmed in the height of its crest          
    
His fingers slithering inside my love cove          
As he swallows my oozing flavor            
Cleansing the covetousness of my soul over and over again          
Cries out of him affecting me          
Our mystical alliance touched          
    
An anointed cosmic offering of him my soul          
Feather kisses to the curtains of my soft folds, behind his madness          
Soothing the trail of where his lust originated            
Wearing the glistening of the crux of my soul on his lips          
Sighs of shaken passion          
Overtaking in the weakening of relishing me  
     
  
Written by SweetKittyCat5
Published
Author's Note
Nobody has ever measured, not even poets, how much the heart can hold.

Zelda Fitzgerald


My Lady In Red Series (Dreams)
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