That’s it, baby, wrap those thighs
Hold tight
Locked in position
You’re on a mission
And it’s not impossible to see, you’re gifted
You write poetry with the tip of your tongue
Dot every I and cross every T
Taste the divine nectar that flows from me
Blissfully, you send me
Strum with the thumb
Now enter with one, maybe two
That’s it, make music
Back arched as you French kiss it
One leg shakes
I quiver
I quake
The last note is played
When I wet up that face