The Purest Sin

The cool air passes across hot skin

Whispering, writhering, and wanting within

The slick feel of his sickly kiss

Cold shudders invade, bringing sinful bliss

Tickling, searching fingers brush away the past

Soft lips and tongue pushing inside so fast

Hot ejaculated whimpers from a throat too dry

Steamy hands elict them to a cry

Pushing down on him with playful intentions

Silky tongue grazes mine too fast to mention

Minutes turn to seconds as lights dance on these walls

Breathing gone heavy as up and down we fall

Loud, wild cries of physical passion

Circle the room in rapid fashion

The cool air passes across hot skin

Whispering, writhering, and wanting within.