Well, she lay naked on the bed, and I start from the base of her neck.
Writing, yes, an abstract poem.
Whatever that comes to my mind..
On her tits, I write about her eyes.
On her belly, I write about her lips.
On her thighs, I write about all the sounds she makes when she is being touched at different places.
Gasps and moans and groans and screams.
I write about her facial expressions behind on her ass And then I have a long blank page of her back to write on. Oh, there I write a love-letter.
No, not the sweet, romantic love-letter.
A steamy love-letter, describing in dirty details all the things I wanna do to her.
At the back of her thighs, I write about the things she makes me feel when I'm inside her.
Not just when I'm inside her pussy, but also when I'm inside her mouth or in the grip of her hands.
Oh when she is fully covered in words, the real job starts.
Yep, first I click like fifty photographs and make a record of the poem. And then I bring this bottle of water from the fridge. Chilled. I pour it on her.
I lie on top of her then, and rub my body against her.
Of course, it makes a mess. All that blue ink.
But then I sit up and pull her into my lap and start wiping down all 'em words. With my fingers.
Taking my own sweet time too, drawing so many sounds out of her.
Oh, it does take a long time. And even after that, remnants of those words still remain on her.
Then there is no option now.
I start eating 'em words.
Yes, my lips and tongue start working on her skin.
I eat 'em words, I eat her, and I eat of course the ink too.
Writing, yes, an abstract poem.
Whatever that comes to my mind..
On her tits, I write about her eyes.
On her belly, I write about her lips.
On her thighs, I write about all the sounds she makes when she is being touched at different places.
Gasps and moans and groans and screams.
I write about her facial expressions behind on her ass And then I have a long blank page of her back to write on. Oh, there I write a love-letter.
No, not the sweet, romantic love-letter.
A steamy love-letter, describing in dirty details all the things I wanna do to her.
At the back of her thighs, I write about the things she makes me feel when I'm inside her.
Not just when I'm inside her pussy, but also when I'm inside her mouth or in the grip of her hands.
Oh when she is fully covered in words, the real job starts.
Yep, first I click like fifty photographs and make a record of the poem. And then I bring this bottle of water from the fridge. Chilled. I pour it on her.
I lie on top of her then, and rub my body against her.
Of course, it makes a mess. All that blue ink.
But then I sit up and pull her into my lap and start wiping down all 'em words. With my fingers.
Taking my own sweet time too, drawing so many sounds out of her.
Oh, it does take a long time. And even after that, remnants of those words still remain on her.
Then there is no option now.
I start eating 'em words.
Yes, my lips and tongue start working on her skin.
I eat 'em words, I eat her, and I eat of course the ink too.