Pretending to be your call-girl one night,
I come around looking just right,
To your front door in my spike-heeled boots,
Anxious to see if the outfit suits.
Taking your time as if not to tear paper,
You lift my skirt and then say “wait here.”
On go the lights of the Christmas tree,
Then back you come to unwrapping me.
Tripping towards the window chair,
Cars driving by catching a stare,
At you parting my thighs wide with your knees,
Me arching back with a need to please.
Down before me then you drop,
All hurriedness seems to stop,
Tracing edges with your nose,
Savoring fragrance, eyes sweetly closed.
And on my mouth there forms a grin,
Petals caressed with bare chin,
Sighing resumes, as you lick with leisure,
A cone full of your favorite flavor.
Not content with petting for long,
Like a cat the urge too strong,
Purring starts a reverie,
Lips melting with sweet honey.
Fingers used to stir the flow,
Knowing you like watching the show,
As to your mouth I offer a taste,
Not one drop let go to waste.
Whispering, “tell me what you need,”
No more time for play I plead,
“I will do anything you ask,
Fulfilling your fantasy is my only task.”
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