Thighs Of A Strawberry
His tongue cavorts
along the succulent crests
in and out of the honeyed mist
that releases her seeds
into his mouth.
His fingers
stretch her thighs
as he tastes feverishly
from her insides . . .
She is jittery.
A tad bit disturbed
in her voyage
from garden to table.
Her thighs glisten
moistly and purified
in a bath to purge
her flesh
of poisonous farmers touch.
Her scarlet flesh
blushes in the candlelight--- lingering
for the young man to be bold
and dive into her candy nectar.
When extracting a fruit for the first time
always be careful not to bruise her side
from too much stroking.
Boost her hips toward your lips
and flick her opening with the tip
of your lukewarm tongue.
Once you taste her sinful sweetness grasp
both sides of her thighs and sluggishly
love her with your mouth.
Pliable sensitive strokes at first
to construct the juices within
which hesitate.
Dance with her flesh------ mate
with her often and when
the sigh escapes her thighs
she will yield her riddles.
Inside these thighs
is the nectar of agelessness
and tonight it is yours.
Guide her deep inside your mouth
and let the juices tumble
to the back of your throat.
He licks his fingers
and eyes her afterglow.
She serenades to him
with the quiver of her thighs
she chants for him
in the benevolence
of the garden.
