Frances Carleton #44 - 3am

Staring at shadows on the ceiling
I curse your name
Recalling our last encounter
Six hours ago

I request, not knowing
size or what will be presented
you always fit my hand
Thawing resolve to give you up

My black beauty
arriving with intoxicating perfume
embracing all of me

Clasping your girth
Taking glass, ceramic, silicon sheath
to my lips
creamy warmth glides
down my throat
heart beats faster
my skin flushes
excitement builds
… to satisfaction

You always leave me
wanting more ...
but unable to appease my need
… for sleep

Oh you’re harsh
Mistress Co-ffee






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