Sundays (18+)

You’re kissing her and a moan escapes her lips,

Travelling from her tongue to yours, breathtaking,

Her hands, looking for an anchor as she’s drowning,

Desire crashing her skin, the storm is coming,

She never thought she would want someone that much,

Ever again, she swore, yet this time it feels different,

This time she found someone to play with,

A man that feels her body perfectly,

The week takes forever but on Sundays time stands still,

When the leather finally hit her reddened skin,

And your lips cover every single inch of her body,

La petite mort on instantly your fingertips

Her eyes locked on yours she’ll go down on you,

Playfully, slowly, with her mouth and her tongue,

Oh how she’s been craving this moment all week,

She just wants to taste you, blend her taste with yours,

Wants you to explode in every way possible,

She just wants you everywhere all at once,

Like she exploded so many times wrapped around you,

She’ll be craving more and more of those,

Sunday afternoons locked in you lost on your body,

Always counting the day, impatient for it to arrive,

Wishing Sundays would turn into Mondays, Tuesdays…

Bringing toys and an opened dirty mind,

Because for once she found that someone,

Who makes it worth it, like bodies meant to meet,

Like moans made to blend and desire shared,

When both can share a passion for each other’s body,

When she didn’t even believe it was possible,

You came along, a man who can handle her,

In every way possible and it’s was at this moment,

She finally believed she was normal again


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