She wakes with a phantom taste on her tongue,
A phantom ache that she cannot outrun.
It’s not just hunger for food or for wine,
It’s a burning, a need, a divine design.
She thinks of the weight of him, standing at attention,
The glorious, heavy, thick erection.
She imagines the look in his eyes as she drops to her knees,
The power she holds, the deep, aching squeeze.

She thinks of the velvet skin, the heavy, thumping vein,
The way it swells when she licks the tip, driving him insane.
She craves the taste of the salt and the skin,
To worship the pride that he wears within.
She needs to feel it pulsing against her tongue,
To suckle the length of him, until her jaw is both numb and sung.
The sound of her mouth, wet and open and loud,
Is the only rhythm that makes the whole world proud.

She imagines the heat, the pressure expanding deep,
As she takes him all in, past the point she can’t keep.
The gag reflex, a distant, sweet memory,
As she swallows him down, wild and free.
She wants to feel the surge, the hot, thick release,
The proof of her skill, the ultimate peace.
To own his reaction with just her mouth,
To make him beg for more, to drown in the sound.

It’s a hunger that gnaws, a need that won’t fade,
The constant reminder of pleasure betrayed.
She wants to be on her knees, lost in the haze,
A prisoner of pleasure, with just one goal in her gaze.
To feel him throb, to feel him come alive,
To worship the glory of the man and the drive.
And when she finally lets him explode,
She knows she’ll be satisfied, for just a little while.