I’ve heard your sex called a flower, but I’ve not believed that accurate for a flower opens indiscriminately, and what lies at your center is home for only the most privileged. She is private, sensitive beauty that could occasionally be seen as delicate as the thin petals, fibrous and hungry for light, but truth told her tough flesh is too often instructed to be hidden away in darkness, true and perceived; a secret shamed, a gift rarely see as such.
I adore her, not only for her gorgeous form, a slit of lovely flesh surrounded by swollen mounds, hair-dusted lips begging to be teased, coaxed to heat by tongue, fingers and cock. Why would you cover her so in the quietest, most intimate moments when the light has escaped the world and passions wrap limbs and breath in wild desire? As my lips long to follow a trail beginning at your breasts, past your navel and then down a line of softness to your yearning, I feel your hands tense under my arms as if in warning. “Please,” it feels you’re saying. “Please don’t.”
But I continue with a mouth greedy for the taste and feel of you, wet meeting wet and the sea of your soul warming skin, relaxing tightened walls and working against your worry.
Believe me. Give in to her. Undo it all.
The world becomes awash with the brine and sweet of your lust, and I tremble at the altar of you even as I seek to break your idols and shatter those long-held beliefs that this isn’t clean or right, that she is dirty or ugly. She like you is my love, and my heart’s rapid rhythm sings to open you and indulge that rising fire threatening to sear at nerve endings even as they are swayed into a chorus of rising, tremulous volume.
I want the muscles of my mouth, the tongue and lips, those that clench my jaw, to push and move outside and inside of you, searching for your core where our music calls excited for a new melody; shared and precious. My hands stray all over your flesh looking to compliment our symphony, and this is beautiful; you are beautiful.
A flower blooms, but you are explosive, sending aftershocks rippling through your muscles as the earth gives at the pull of land and the push of sea. These are our most thoroughly natural moments, expressions of primal need that forge mountains in our souls and color us as shedded sun is by atmosphere. We glow and shimmer, turning to water under the release, and she smiles at you from inside. She wants light, she is your light, and we move together to forever dispel the dark you knew for her.