Sexual Fantasy

By Anon - Feb 13, 2006 - From Erotic poetry - Views - 11917

Pretending to be your call-girl one night,
I come around looking just right,
To your front door in my spike-healed boots,
Anxious to see if the outfit suits.

Taking time as if not to tear paper,
You lift my skirt and then say "wait here."
Turning on the lights of the Christmas tree,
You're back unwrapping the package that's me.

Pushing towards the window and into the chair,

The cars driving by all catch a stare,
As you part my legs wide with your knees,
At me arching back with a need to please.

Then down before me on your knees,

Nibbling passionately you begin to tease,

Tracing my panties with your nose,

Savoring the fragrance, your eyes gently closed.

Caressing petals with your chin,

You cause my mouth to form a grin,

Sighing as you lick with leisure,

A cone full of your favorite flavor.

Not content with this petting for long,
Like a cat, the urge so strong,

I begin to purr in reverie,
Spreading my lips, wet with honey.

Using my fingers to stir the flow,

Knowing you like watching the show,

To your mouth I offer a taste,

And you don't let a drop go to waste.

Whispering, "tell me what you need,"

No more time for play, I plead,
"I will do anything you ask,
Fulfilling your fantasy is my task."

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