The Flavor of Fuck

I cup your balls
Which lie within a cotton sheath.
They are weighty in my hand.
A slight tug gets your juices flowing
And I push you onto the bed.
Attack mode is programmed.
I am not human but a black widow
And you are my willing prey.

My venom will devour you.

After a slap on the ass
I heave you to the floor.
As animalistic passions overwhelm my senses
A bitter taste consumes my tongue.
The chemical residue of adrenaline.
It makes me want to bite your salty mouth
To wash the impeding bitterness away.

Our bodies collide
With arms roaming, hips pumping.
A stampede of power tickles my inner thighs.
Our hearts are racing.
Our chests are heaving.
I lick the sweat from your hard jaw

Savoring the intense flavor of fuck.

I am not thinking.
I am riding.
I am free.
My body strains and tightens
As a herd of stallions gallop up my back.

Momentum is now gaining.
I bite the side of your neck.
My lips purse and I begin to suck.
The area turns red and purple
And I taste a hint of copper.

At this moment, all I have are senses.
I feel, see, hear, smell and taste our obsession.
Your smooth back and rough hands,
The sight of your slightly freckled chest
Towering over my quivering body,
Your quick short breathes mingle with my quiet moans,
And your humming flutters in my ear.
The scent of ardor permeates the room.

I have never tasted such ecstasy.

Our ravenous pounding continues.
I taste you.
Pressure points are pleased
While my tender spots throb for force.
My body is susceptible to your every poke and prod.

Savory excitement engulfs me.

Climax hangs in the air
Full and rich, like a mouthful of pure chocolate.
As it comes, my throat is parched.
A chalky flavor resides when everything else is sweet release.

Finally, I am yours.