He whispers to me of his love and desire
as he caresses me awake in the deep of night.
His fingertips leave a trail of molten fire
that gives my eyes a passionate light.
His kisses burn me and at his lips, I feed.
His gentle stroking sends me flying high.
I ache with an oh so intense need.
I part my thighs wider, with a passionate sigh.
His kisses trail down my neck.
I arch off the bed, my head is reeling.
I am such a heated lusty wreck
and badly in need of sexual healing.
He kisses down to the tips of my breasts.
Slowly laving them, he is creating peaks of fire.
I am riding on a wave that crests…
even as I climb to a level thats higher.
His tongue nibbles down me, so fleeting...
finally finding the heated recess between my thighs.
He swirls me with a experienced tongue, I begin pleading...
I am incoherant, but speak with encouraging moans and sighs.
I try to hold back. I am almost out of my head,
but his tongue knows me only too well.
I arch completely off our soft bed…
in a hugely climatic sensous swell.
A search for the ghost of a chorus girl chorine haunting a costume designer’s Manhattan apartment leads to an encounter with an eccentric, mischievous witch with the ability to send folks back through time…in this case, the 1919 Ziegfeld Follies.
Sweet Aloha,
Tiana ;-p