A Brief Descent

Her hand slides to my wrist, as I descend
to brush her lips with mine and clasp her throat.
I wonder, while she's captive, will she spend
each moment plotting carefully? I'll cope
with all the pressures of her tangy lips.

I'll kiss her hard; and, harder still, intrude
my tongue into her mouth, as my hand slips
across her breasts, to mold them. Is it crude
to show her how I love to tease the tips
Of well-slapped mounds that perk?

No: she's soon wet
and ready for attention once again.
I'll kiss her deep, for she's my naughty pet.
She's mine to tease and toy with. Let's remain
conspiratorial. She has just lent
her hand to me. This precludes all dissent.