Not a word said

In a hushed room, I hold my tongue,
No trilling 'HELLO', lips tightly stung.
He holds my neck, a passionate embrace,
As I guide him silently to our sacred space.

His desire rises, already semi-hard,
My lips take him, each motion a shard.
Gathering my hair, he watches me delve,
In silence we speak, not a word to tell.

No words are needed, only moans and sighs,
Such sweet sounds that bid passion to rise.
I succumb to pleasure, humming in delight,
Savoring the taste of a forbidden night.

His quiet fantasy, a curious charm,
To be muzzled, silenced, safe from harm.
Each sound magnified, music fills the air,
And the wet sucking echo adds to the affair.

I spit, make it wet, a sensual display,
Enhanced by the silence, the sound lights the way.
He called his desires "vanilla," plain and mild,
But this heat we share, it can't be filed.

Is it "vanilla hot" or a secret kink,
Labeled as such, yet it makes my heart sink.
Regardless, I revel in this delightful race,
The struggle to stay silent, a tantalizing embrace.

But eventually, in need of release,
He breaks the silence, his voice brings peace.
"Do you enjoy this?" he finally inquires,
And my body quivers, consumed by desire.