Her Lips

The measures of contentment are her lips,
He’ll watch them as they suck, clenching men's cocks,
And, if mouths pout, then thrusting must eclipse
Soft reveries that rough house sex unblocks;
Given he is so sure her yielding face
Will add to her amours and their delight,
Uttering moans, as her tongue joins the race
Until they come and spurt and so requite
The need for them to take her. She is saved
For him to pleasure in ways - he's sure to know
Just when to step from shadows: as she's raised
Her head to swallow and to see them go,
To steal away from the essence of pleasures,
Her lips content them: such enduring measures.