Beneath her body,
I take my sacred place,
face pressed to the altar
where I worship her grace.
Every breath a prayer,
every touch a chant,
in the folds of her warmth,
I find the fervor I want.
She rides the waves
of her own pleasure above,
while I’m lost in the service,
the labor of love.
Ignored, unseen,
but feeling every shift,
her scent surrounds me–
my soul’s perfect gift.
Underneath her,
I’m where I need to be,
her taste, her warmth–
my sanctuary.
She clenches,
and I reach my peak,
in the silence of her pleasure,
no need to speak.
This is no passing desire,
it’s a devout faith,
in the shrine of her skin,
I find my wraith.
She doesn’t need to thank me,
doesn’t need to know,
as long as I can linger
where her waters flow.
So leave me here forgotten,
under her reign,
where I worship every shadow,
cherish every pain.
Her scent is my doctrine,
her moan my creed,
in the temple of her body,
I’ve found all I need.