At the church of Lara's cunt

I meet your eyes
But I watch your lips parting and your tongue moisten as you talk.
I reach to touch your earring-drop and pay it through my hand.
With my finger tips I trace the curve from your earlobe to your chin.
We study each other intently.
Your mouth coats my thumb
With a layer of purest honey.
You baptise me. Now I can worship at the church of Lara's cunnie.

Your tongue is in my mouth.
That is what I remember
Moving. Filling, pushing.
Lara's lips on my lips.
That breathless pleasure is with me now and I feel my prick growing uncomfortably inside my trousers.
My hands leave your face and move down.
Brushing. Hovering.
Inside your blouse I rest the flat of my left palm on your belly and slide upwards.
Your breast weighs heavily on the top of my hand.
I hook my thumb under your bra cup and you are free.
I squeeze. Hard.
My right hand strokes the small of your back.
Your hips. Then your buttocks.
Now I am under your skirt, sliding up your inner right thigh.
You pull out my wet cock from my trousers and you take it in your open hand and lubricate me with my own juices.
You are my confesor and you know my thoughts.
Between your legs, my fingers hunt.
I kneel at the church of Lara's cunt.

Preparing for the ritual you sit, draw your skirt up above your thighs, and stretch open your legs.
And your eyes don't leave my eyes for a single second.
I see the sanctum where I must make my devotion.
For me, you have laid a shear white lace cover over the holy alter.
But I can see the darkness within and it draws me.
I bow down to kiss your sacredness through the musky material.
The scents of your wantonness unravel my senses
Then our eyes lock again.
You reach down and slowly draw aside the wet cloth panel.
Alleluia.
The heavenly quim is revealed to me in all its moistened glory.
All worshippers in this church talk in tongues.
Your left hand takes my head and firmly
Pulls me to the front.
The spirit is with me.
I start to pray in the church of Lara's cunt.