Spreading Her Lips

He thrusts.
Gently at first, then harder
When she doesn’t object.

Object! Never…
She loves the feel of its long, hard length
Spreading her lips.
Sliding inside.
Sparking her brain.

She craves it.
Worships it.
Needs it.
Her body opening for it.

But it’s so bad. She knows she shouldn’t.
She fights it, often, the need.
Proud of herself for avoiding it.
But the deprivation just makes it feel better next time.

So sometimes her tongue glides across the veiny darkness,
Over the ridges, whorls, nuts,
Seeking the thick pale cream within.
He pushes it in,
Trembling with his own excitement,
His own craving,
Looking down
At the rich brown against the porcelain of her skin…

“These Snickers ice-cream bars are great!” he says,
Offering her another bite.