Shannon Crocus (My Succubus - 01)

I.
Shannon Crocus, a fiery,
porcelain-skinned daemon,
clad in black thigh-high lace,
a thong to tempt my tongue,
bare midriff mesmerizing
my weakest moments,
    no matter night or day.

Shannon Crocus, like a
dark goddess in the flesh,
muse flitting in sex fantasy,
summoned as the demon
Lilith by secret male lust,
desperate horny groaning,
    moaning in habitual relief.

Shannon... you stalk me,
haunt me in the best of ways,
madness your companion;
come, come to my dreams,
my waking visions of lust,
reality bores me for lack of
    your silky taboo skin.

Girth grown thick by a
sexy gothic fiend using
wanton ways of the flesh;
here upon earth to frolic,
daring my eager loins
in vivid, intimate scenes
    to bulge for a tease.

Shannon! I can sense
your lavender-scented wile,
familiar after your many
nightly visits to my rest;
my days drag for want
of lascivious freedom,
    for your perversity.

Oft I ignore this stale,
morally rigid, proper
polite, squeamish world;
thoughts lost for fantasy,
engorging dreams sown
throughout my past,
    seeds you've planted.

You are my best demon,
capturing my ev'ry synapse,
twisting your lithe fingers
into even the earliest of
familial memories, you...
you wonderfully wicked,
    salacious succubus.