The Pressure

It's the rocking...
The rocking and the smell
A warm slightly acrid smell
It's utterly intoxicating

It's the warmth...
The heat emanating
From his appendage
The skin peeled back
To reveal the puckering head

It's the fluidity...
The way the skin slides
Along it's length
And the feeling
Of the space in between

It's the pressure...
The pressure exuded
By the veiny length of meat,
The pressure against my face,
The pressure against my forehead,
Against my lips...