Don’t Climax With Me Quite Yet

A Poem, A Demand

Mirror movements to maximize climaxes
where each touch reciprocated

tasted never wasted leave me
basted in your love to marinate

macerate me into fruit that
with your honey, I’ll become

nothing more than an
ooey gooey mess you get

to lap up every morsel
from the waterfall between

my legs. Demand me to orgasm
but not with you

not yet
you won’t give in

with me quite yet
because you aren’t

done delivering
each twitch and convulsion

like my pussy is having
a seizure and your

the Doctor to release her.
Coax out each washing

machine tumble
of my womb

to entomb us
in this never-ending pleasure.

I taste indigo on tongue
with you, serve me