My Angel likes to dress for me.

I’m always so impressed to see,

Her body in a flowing gown,

And watch her take it slowly down.

And there reveal some soft black lace,

To see her move with poise and grace.

Her lithe slim body moves in time,

Her slender curves defy my rhyme.

She reaches back, unclips the clasp,

And frees those breasts that make me gasp.

She smiles at me and reaches up,

Her hands replace the lacey cup.

She squeezes tight, her nipples proud.

Her eyes then close, her moans come loud.

She sways her hips, one hand moves low,

And into moistened panties go.

I hear her gasp as fingers touch

Her heated, swollen, aching crotch.

She slides them deep between the lips,

And presses forward with her hips.

Her nipples pinched, her pussy probed,

She stands before me, near disrobed.

Her eyes then open, locked on mine,

My Angel looks so sweet, divine.

As from her pants her finger slips,

She brings it to her tongue, her lips,

And savours then her honeyed taste.

Well it would be a shame to waste.

Then that same finger to me crooks,

And gives me her most wicked looks.

And so begins a night of lust,

With gentle touch and pounding thrust.

With soft sweet kisses, probing tongue,

And every ounce of pleasure wrung.