Lazy Fingers

With poetry I glide upon your skin
my lazy fingers wander,
and burn you within.

Making you wait
keep things on edge
as your forbidden fruit
slowly ripens

Hands tied, pupils wide
you open and part your legs
utterly submitting to
the desires of thrust.

Kissing southern lips,
a tease of fuzz
and your nectar drips
down the thighs.

My tongue maps and
traces the source with strokes
and gulps it...
all down the throat.

We haven't finished...
we have just begun.

-Ab.C.