My perfect whore,

Arrayed in her finery,

Planned,

Prepared.

Primped and primed,

With explosive desire.

Her succulent places,

Smooth,

Glistening,

Perfumed with her own scent.

Her eyes sparkle with life!

Eyes that read my want,

And allow her

to interpret my cravings.

Words are not needed,

As she undresses me

From the stresses of my world.

Takes my mind,

from where it has been

To where she wants it to be.

Her exquisite labours

Making me succumb,

As she reads my body,

Like an open book.

Anticipating my every want,

Her body gracefully

Pushes and pulls me,

Stripping me of everything but desire.

The High Priestess

At worship,

Leads me ever closer

To the song I will sing in her honour,

To the gods of lust and pleasure.

My High Priestess,

Goddess of her craft,

Finds her wants met,

As we together

Share our intimacy.

The deities smile,

As unknown names reverberate

The stratosphere of lust!