A liquid sin, a velvet drip,
A taste of moonlight on the lip.
The flow is slow, the flood is deep,
A wanton wave, a silken sweep.

The ache unfurls, the craving tight,
The fevered push, the milk-white bite.
A flood, a foam, a tangled bliss,
A body drowned in luscious kiss.

The weight, the pulse, the fevered quake,
A trembling tide that will not break.
The walls give way, the river moans,
A whispered wet, a liquid tone.

And when the tide is drained and dry,
A gasp, a hush, a soft goodbye.
Yet even now, where echoes gleam,
The body hums, so soft, so creamy.