The Softest Place on Earth
I’m ready, babe. It’s foreplay today. I’m going to eat your pussy so bad and I wont stop until you scream my name.
Christopher Columbus ain’t got nothing on me. Neither does Vasco da Gama, Amerigo, or Mungo Park. Your body is my world map — tonight, I feel the need to explore. The radio’s on. The DJ’s playing our favourite song: (Untitled) How Does it Feel by D’Angelo.
Take off your clothes, I want to see you whole. Let’s consummate.
Come closer, let me feel you.
Let me hold you.
My God, you smell so fucking good.
Get your ass up on the bed. Wait a minute, let me fetch my compass and sextant. Watch me get out of my jeans and discard my shirt — let go of my anchor — as I cast away from dry land and come to you.
Damn!
Your body’s calling out for me— seek and plunder — you have so much I want to discover. Watch me feel my way over your vast stretch of rolling fields that are your thighs and limbs. My hands and lips probe your many hills, valleys and peaks. I grasp your twin mountains, holding on as if for dear life.
I lean over your landscape and suck on your tits.
Your body’s yearning with your hips jerking as I finger your clit. My lips remain locked on your tits. Spasms. Convulsive. Feels like you’re ready to erupt lava all over the bed.
Let me kiss you. Kiss every inch of your unblemished flesh — your earth. I am the invade set to defile your Paradise. We kiss once more, passionate this time. Our eyes lock. I swim in your gorgeous pair of blue just as you drown in my brown.
Passion and desire.
Forgive me, Gaia.
Bade me to worship at your temple.
I kiss my way down your abdomen towards your verdant garden of Eden. Your thighs clamp together like a gate stalling my entry.
I fervently plead.
You continue to heed.
I kiss your feet.
The moon and the stars are yours, I promise. Your thighs part ways and you testily welcome me to go ahead and taste your nectar.
My tongue and lips go to work burrowing into your vagina’s core. This is where all Life begins. Past, present and future. Your hips rise from the bed. Your hand caresses and push my head down your crotch.
My lips smack, pull, and pull on your velvet flesh. I flick my tongue on your sensitive clit. You whimper. You shiver like you’ve caught the fever. Matter of fact, you are the fever. Your body struggles to resist. But like a steadfast explorer, I persist toward investigating your eternal waterfall.
I drink your copious cum juice.
I am famished for your pussy.
I am lost in the softest place on earth.
Your body jerks. Electricity tense. You holler my name; you plead for me to stop. Your nails rake my head and shoulders. You squeal. You moan. Your earth trembles and I sense a hurricane swatting through your plateau. You do eventually scream my name. Just before you orgasmed.
You pull me towards your lips. Sweet kisses and love you. Yet on the radio, D’Angelo wails as he asks the perplexing question:
How does it feel?
How does it fe—
