The Sixty Nine Phoenix Rising

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116 words
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my touch of tongue guides your fine dance of paison,
In rhythmic flight,
reaching summit of orgasmic bloom,
such heat stoked and amited,
meeting the warmth of breathe giving high exsitment,
you ejecting your love trigal from the wonder of silk glisserning petals,
showers such a dance of lust and Joy,
your aroma cast beings out the most natrue bouquet in the world,
enticing my fountain to blurt leap and dance in cycle,
from the oral ballet in position of sixty nine,
between my dancing phinixe bird with a happy hovering bubalbee,
enticing out nectar,
rising from vailies the bed larks of midnight summer hights
what comes to harvest,
is that sweetest tasting honey ever fermented.

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