The Feast

"A quick poem. Ode to cunnilingis"

My arms lock round your trembling thighs,
My hands bolted round your squirming wrists,
My lips brush your slit to the chorus of your sighs,
Awaiting my hunger your quivering turns and twists,
I drag my tongue the length of your melting core,
You push your center to my teasing lips,
Your unrealized desire, a lust that turns sore,
My teeth hold you in place with its firm but gentle grip,
Devouring you suddenly with fury as you begin to lose your will,
A dark god’s sacrifice withering and growing as I feed,
My mouth forces its way to quickly fill,
The gushing space between your need.