The Pain For My Love

Never does she need to beg for my flawed body to be expertly guided by my love.
My hand dives like a wasp and alights on her flesh with its hidden love.
She moans in the soulfulness of her burning lust that radiates it pleasure hidden in love.
My hand lingers to entices and tease before its swarms away for another soaring lunge towards my love.
I watch as she slightly lifts her boiling bottom of succulent flesh to intersect with the welcome pain that she begs of her love.
When I feel the rivers of pleasure exude and flows across my leg, I know her warmth is wrapped in every pleasure she loves.
My nails dig themselves into the heat of her lustful reddened flesh and send another dripping frenzy of liquid passion from her welcoming entrance to love.
Honey drips as my hand delivers more stings now across her inner thighs, just right where she loves.
Only she knows the secret, her signals to cease, it is my opportunity to smear the balm across the ravaged passionate flesh of my love.
My transformed hands, now serene as a butterfly’s kiss, glide gently across her heated filled flesh towards the pinnacle of her pleasure when in love.
As my fingers dance and glide to a rhythmic beat of torrid passion for us, I give her all she wants, as she finally dives of the edge of the blissfulness that sits before my love.
And when the pleasure finally settles itself into a place of security that nothing can interrupt, she turns her head and I lower mine, so that our lips might confirm everything that I will do for my love.