“Let me be your dessert,” she asked.
as I looked into her sparkling eyes,
“Taste me,” and my tongue tasked
between quaking and parted thighs.

Smiling as my tongue probed, explored
savored the taste of dessert this day.
“What do I taste like”, she implored.
“As always, you are my Crème Brule”

So very sweet but hard, her outer shell
protecting all delights that lie beneath.
Breaking through, shards sharp as hell
but heaven waited within her sheath.

Her cream, intoxicating and delicate
as tongue danced along her silken folds
to taste her in ways so intimate
to sample the heaven her body holds.

Her head lolled back, lips did swell,
her cries aloud were praises sung
as she realized even her outer shell
dissolved to naught beneath my tongue.

When her dish emptied all its cream
and she’d been drained in every way,
in my arms, curled and began to dream,
my dessert, my darling, my Crème Brule.