My perfect whore,
Arrayed in her finery,
Planned,
Prepared.
Primped and primed,
With explosive desire.
Her succulent places,
Smooth,
Glistening,
Perfumed with her own scent.
Her eyes sparkle with life!
Eyes that read my want,
And allow her
to interpret my cravings.
Words are not needed,
As she undresses me
From the stresses of my world.
Takes my mind,
from where it has been
To where she wants it to be.
Her exquisite labours
Making me succumb,
As she reads my body,
Like an open book.
Anticipating my every want,
Her body gracefully
Pushes and pulls me,
Stripping me of everything but desire.
The High Priestess
At worship,
Leads me ever closer
To the song I will sing in her honour,
To the gods of lust and pleasure.
My High Priestess,
Goddess of her craft,
Finds her wants met,
As we together
Share our intimacy.
The deities smile,
As unknown names reverberate
The stratosphere of lust!
