Cosmic Bubblegum Kiss

I french it better than I could any open mouth.
My bubblegum falls neatly onto your skin,
and I balance this sweet on the faucet of your tip.
You laugh at my antics with your south,
and I pop the candy back inside my cherry lip.
Your pumping manhood pulsates to my touch.
I adore the star twinkling on your veiny head:
It shines, sweetly demanding my pink tongue.

I greet it and french it with more raunch than kiss.
Your length nuzzles in the crooks of my face,
as if its shyness had no other to place to fit itself.
I giggle, stroking it, noting its drippy lace,
the bloodstream flowing, forgetting its senses.
And this star explodes in the sky of my throat,
a dark sky into which it frees from within you.

I wear it proudly in the confines of my galaxy.