I will stop kissing your thighs for one moment so I can type this first line.
I love how you taste like an orange creamsicle.
They don’t taste the same as they did when we were kids and isn’t that true about too many things.
I will stop biting down hard on your nipples for a second so I can gather my thoughts and then dispense with them like three coins in a fountain.
I love how you remind me of black licorice.
I wish candy and ice-cream were still being created for adults. I miss pints of Ben and Jerry’s White Russian ice-cream and Powerhouse candy bars that even gave Snickers a run for their money.
I love when you told me your freckles were everywhere. It left nothing to my imagination while opening up endless possibilities for places my tongue can endlessly wander to and fro.
We bring the best parts of ourselves front and center and that can never be a bad thing no matter your marital status or my inability to make nice with someone for any extended period of time.
Your come hither looks drive me right over the White Cliffs of Dover and I’d prefer it if while making up your mind you continued to speak to me through your unremitting poetry that always keeps me coming back for more.
Charles Eric Cicirella