Strawberries

I love every kind of strawberry.

with a whiff of ice cream and sip of mousse dairy.

Especially the kind that makes you bury

your soul as you bite each and every berry. 

The first is hidden between your legs.

As you open and spread them wide I hear you beg.

The aroma and smell are so enticing

Emanating every fruity smell that is so exciting.

You moan out for me to lick and taste

your throbbing red bud leaving nothing to waste.

Swimming in a puddle of liquid nectar,

begging to be sucked like a shining red star.

Now that is the strawberry I like to eat

each night with a taste of lust and rush of sweet.

The other two little ones are sitting atop 

two round thrones waiting for a chance to pop.

Two jewels shining like a beacon of light.

Calling out for the lost and weary to lick and bite.

“Come here and have a taste,” they say,

“once you do you’ll never be able to go away.”

That is the only place I want to be.

And those strawberries are all I want to see.