An Open Letter From a Thirsty Man

I just got a phenomenal image of you in my head
that was both wonderful and debaucherous
at the exact same time--suddenly,
appeared the image of just your tiny, sweet, beautiful pussy
such gorgeous lips and the surrounding hips
and flattened, soft belly, in a completely squared snapshot.

I imagined what I would do to it
this delicate and pretty flower before my very eyes
Moving slowly in closer, closer, and closer, you rise
placing my hands on your protruding hip bones
as I delicately placed my face down with candor
to those few inches of beauty and splendor
giving it the slightest and feintest of kisses, and daring licks
gently, so as to barely brush the other tip of your thin lips.

Slowly caressing down your thighs, watching you beg
next I will take my hands and wrap my arms beneath your legs, then
around to where the hands sit atop your hip bones again
pressing you down to the mattress: spread for my eyes to see
my meal has been served, and it awaits me,
only inches from my face
I give a curious glance and crack a smirk of a hallowed grace.

Gently I move in upon my prey,
listening to our mutual heavy breathing astray
exchanging exhales and slight moans,
I begin to tongue you ever so gently--ever so soft is the tone
and fill your sweet vagina up with blood and excitation.
Devils stares glare, as we exchange casual romances which smother
through daggered eyes which meet and pierce one another
cutting clean and cold as the world grows old.

Slowly, I work you up, lips parted
taking minutes to even get started
your thoughts inside of your head tell a narrative
of begging and wanting, desiring, yearning so imperative
for me to go at you in full intensity--but I won't
I'll continue to caress and graze, gently brush, and on it goes
Your sweet and tender moans reboant.

You utter sweet moans and careless words that rip through my ears
and taint my mind with the sweetest of audible poison
While your arsenic begins to drip down my face like wasted tears
down my chin, where it lay after grey days and cold years.

Slowly and suddenly, the pressure increases and slips
as my whole lower face glides across your lips
up and down, slowly working in closer and closer
I can taste your Heaven-Hell, and smell the sweet stench of your desire
You're mine, Master, and I've come to serve and behave
you're the Master of this bedroom, and I am your slave.

The session will go for hours, ever-closer, fragrant, and naughty
slowly adding a finger to the very thin, perfect entrance of your body
just a slight amount inside of you, teasing the outside
Which glistens with outward lustre, as my heart swells with pride.

Then you will slowly become devoured
and into my passion and pointed lust you will go
your hole the object of my affection
ready to take your tongue-lashing like a pro
from a very thirsty tongue that will never tell you no.

Will you be mine to consume?
My certain uncertainty, with your blossomed flower in bloom?
My daily feast for years to come?
I'll never let you down--and you'll always own this tongue.