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Fia

Fia speaks,
and I reply.
We see each other eye to eye.
My body fits her like a dress.
She flicks her tongue, and I confess.
She takes me where I should not go.
She tells me things she cannot know.
She pets my muff until I purr.
She’s into me.  I’m into her.

Fia tastes
like Creme Brulé.
We fuck all night.  We kiss all day.
Her Maple lips are sticky sweet.
She pulls my leash and makes me eat.
She ties my wrists above my head.
She rarely lets me out of bed.
I am her crass Caucasian slave.
She whips my ass so I behave,
then licks the wounds her straps apply.
She is my world, I can’t deny.

Fia spends
the afternoon
fisting me inside her room,
twisting nipples, slapping clit.
Her love for me will never quit.
And I would gladly die beneath
the pink encasement of her sheath,
sucking cunt till I convulse…
breathless wench without a pulse.
For Fia knows a cat survives,
and every kitten has nine lives.

    What do you think?

    7 Comments

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    1. F’king Fabulous!
      Superb poem, lovely flow and excellent rhyming.

      Blazing hot arousing descriptions which i can easily visualise!

      Mistress Fia sounds awesome!

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