Dévorer

If you only knew how I want – need – to devour you, to selfishly savour every inch of your masculine flesh, to sensually then passionately kiss each newly exposed morsel, to draw a glistening trail as my tongue drinks the essence of your skin, to bury my nose in deep, to drown in your musk, your heady scent, to slide my breasts along your hard, thickening shaft, to press my crimson peaks into your dripping head, to take you into my mouth, to take you into my hot little mouth and taste you, truly taste you, to glide you down my throat, to kiss and lick and suck on your cock until you weave your hands through my fiery tresses, until your thighs tense, your stomach knots, your hips thrust, until your orgasm screams out of you, until you roar it out, until you come all over my lips and my tongue, until you cover my shivering nakedness, branding me with your heat, painting me with your seed, my fingers sliding through your slippery cream to absorb every last drop into my lily white skin.

If you only knew how I want and need to devour you in this way, to consume you completely, to have you sink into my very core. And then to have you dress me, to have you cloak these passionate markings in the finery you love so well, to have you take me out into the world, into the politest of society, to have witnesses look upon us, to have them know in their pulsating sexes I am marked as yours, to have you fill my nose each time I shift, each time my body heat releases yet another wave, to have these men and women sniff out your come, our passion now suspended in the air, to have them gaze upon your magnetism, to have them regard your wanton woman, to have them wonder if I’ll indulge us both again right there and then.