A Way of Thinking

She will not hold her breath, which is as well,
For he'd not suffocate her with his need;
Her eyes wide-open, as she sucks the seed
From deep within him; she can almost tell
When she will sense him coming: let him tense
And find his heart-beat surging, see she's wrapped
Her tongue around the eagerness she's mapped
With her lips and her mind - a recompense;

Is this the reward sought by both of them?
The taste that washes round - an afterthought,
An afterworld, beyond that little death,
To which he will succumb, when she won't stem
The flow of his excitement, for he's taught
That it's as well, she will not hold her breath.