Creamo

(Part I can maybe never be told)

Now I’m face down on duck down
Your full weight upon me
Tits squished against my shoulder blades
Belly buttoned into the small of my back
Fuzz mounting the twin peaks of my ass cheeks
‘Don’t make a sound’ hissed in my ear
Before sitting up, grinding fuzz
against yielding white cheek
Suddenly
Hands shackle my ankles
Feet yanked skyward
(are knees supposed to twist that way?)
What the fu—
Without warning
Big toe consumed by tight lips
Warm, wet mouth
Whole digit slowly eased in
from toe tip to toe cleavage…
While downtown
(postcode: four-oh-between my thighs)
A wandering finger walks into a bar
(causing peaks stiffer than whipped egg whites)
And drags its syrupy self up
Agonisingly slowly
To the hard little cherry at the end of the bar
In perfect sync with the wet toe vacuum:
Lips up, finger down
Finger up, lips down
Again
Again
God, again
It feels like how I dream getting my dick sucked would feel
And I’d cum instantly
But we’re too high.