Taste

She gripped the bed post tightly,
her inner thighs pressed hard
against my ears yet I could hear
her moaning to the moon as
she fiercely fed me her glory.

Looking up at her breasts bounce
on the angle she slid off and on
my tongue aroused a swelling
in me I could not help but to stroke -
a sensational multitask.

We purred and perspired as the fires
in our pits began to blaze at higher heats –
her erratic riding, my manic pumping.
She began quaking, then a roaring outcry
as she erupted – her juices flowing from
her warm wonderland and down my face;
I followed with an explosion of my own.

After a few spared breaths she came close
and licked her love from my cheeks and lips
with a smile that told me her only better
pleasure than the climax was cleaning it
from my face.

When she was done she went down
to see my work splattered and dripping
along my legs and waist and moved
in haste to mop up the mess I made.

We finished with a French kiss –
a finale as blissful as it was full of taste.