Contributor: Henry Otomo
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My hands, fingers. Close, prayer, holy moment. My tongue, wet, mouth as wet, as ready as her honey, sticky. Her pussy is my altar, my throne, and as I rise to clasp her, fall into her, breathe her, I taste the sweet there, the sticky, the honey. She is mine, alive, trembling, wet goddess of soft skin and movement, hair cascade, the touch and shiver of love as sweet sacrament rubs soft across my nose, my lips, wets to wetter, slides slick, bucking, bucking, fucking my face as she moans. My hands are the dais of her hips, my mouth the dais of her lips, labia, worshiping lingually until the rise of sweet release, until the goddess comes down from her throne, takes me into her arms, and shows me the way to heaven's doors.
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All women are goddesses.
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My hands, fingers. Close, prayer, holy moment. My tongue, wet, mouth as wet, as ready as her honey, sticky. Her pussy is my altar, my throne, and as I rise to clasp her, fall into her, breathe her, I taste the sweet there, the sticky, the honey. She is mine, alive, trembling, wet goddess of soft skin and movement, hair cascade, the touch and shiver of love as sweet sacrament rubs soft across my nose, my lips, wets to wetter, slides slick, bucking, bucking, fucking my face as she moans. My hands are the dais of her hips, my mouth the dais of her lips, labia, worshiping lingually until the rise of sweet release, until the goddess comes down from her throne, takes me into her arms, and shows me the way to heaven's doors.
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All women are goddesses.
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Author:
Henry Otomo
