If Music Be The Food Of Love, Play On
She is attuned in an orgasmic way.
With just a touch I set her quivering.
My fingers stroke and set her shivering.
Her body is an instrument this day.
I stroke her body like a violin
And make her cries of passion fill the air.
To cause this sensuality I share
The skills I have attained from love within.
And she returns a contrapuntal kiss
That makes my manhood tremble and arise
In expectation of a tonguing prize.
She plays my clarinet with gleeful bliss.
The two maracas of her melon breasts
I rub with palms and cause her nipples growth,
And as the sound of lust escapes us both
I hear the rhythms of her beating chest.
The moisture she secretes upon her hood
Tastes of the food of gods I must admit.
As I keep licking wetness from her slit
Her voice is singing out that it is good.
My implement strokes in and out once more
Exploring compositions I have known.
My playing tool expands until it's grown
To fill her female organ to the core.
At last the climax of our sweet duet
Resolves itself with one last jazzy cream.
Our duel coda comes as in a dream.
Embracing, we complete the final set.
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