Mistress Poem by clay perry

Still sleeping, Sweet Mistress
eyes closed to morning sun
taking the deep red coverlet in trembling fingers
i lift it away from Your breasts
that i may drink in their fullness
sheerest black
veils nipples
kissed with pink
the sudden snap of cold
twists them to attention
She stirs
further down the coverlet
a shiver escapes Her luscious form
my index finger traces
hollow of neck
to fullness of mound
two fingers now tracing lips lazy with sleep
smooth, dusky
i feel the damp as my own
soft moaning escapes Sweet Mistress's white throat
running moistened fingers up
from deepest secrets
to mountain top
and back again
lips eased open
petals exposed
slowly teasing the nectar from the flower
beginning to swell under my loving eye
i shall write a poem, Mistress
with my tongue as quill
etching desire upon the book of Wisdom
Your essence shall whisper from its pages
'yes, my pet... yes...'