Anticipation of Ecstasy
The wait, the sweet torment of desire, Anticipation, like fire, higher and higher, Every second stretches, frustration mounts, Longing for the touch, the taste that counts. On my knees, I wait, the moment so near, His warmth, his presence, now here, His tip, warm and pulsing, meets my lips, That first contact, my heart skips. My lips, wet and soft, make him quiver, The satisfaction, as he enters, I deliver, The texture of...