Forget the handcuffs.

I stretch my arms overhead,

surrendering now.

My hips rise and fall

to the relentless cadence

of your dancing tongue

Legs over the arms,

my favorite place to take you

is in your desk chair.

Slow run of honey

over goosebumps on your thighs.

Steam rising upward.

Your hands mold and shape,

making a vessel of me

you will fill with lust.

Roll me in your hands.

Push through my outer layer, and

juice me like an orange.

You, riding my thigh,

hair against hair, wet on wet.

My sex remembers.

Our quickening pace

moves me to a place beyond

all thought and reason.

The pulse in your neck

revealing your heart racing

although you lie still.

Labia swollen,

the slip of skin against skin,

hand making circles.