Your lips are red slips of slick s*x between cheeks worth slapping, performing a hole worth spelunking, describing a dream worth wetting and pruriently pulsing the rising warmth of bestowed ecstasy contained within it. Your pout is a poem that your tongue can taste, your teeth are a tombstone of reason buried in the supple soil of your flesh. Blessed is thy kiss, holy is your hot breath , bedecked in airy flavor of your lungs and pumped from your heart. Spit you gather in the corners of your mouth is valued by leprechauns and fairy folk, who gather it while you sleep to cast their magic on concupiscent unwitting mortals like myself.
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