POETRY: Pink Lace

POETRY: Pink Lace

I kissed her, and she tasted like sin
Warm, wet and innocent
Her face had lost the grin
It had been sporting before our happy incident

She led us here, I just wanted lunch
She was buying, but I see what her smirk meant
I won’t be needing the scone, she had a muffin for me to munch
I certainly loved cake wrapped in lace, but I’d need breath mints

I kissed her, and I let my tongue play
In and around the box
Usually I kneel only when I pray
But I doubt my priest would term this orthodox

Forty licks later and she swore I was god, grabbing my hair
I savored the pain as she tugged, I could feel her peaking soon
So I let my tongue climb higher, she came and I needed air
I needed to climb too, I got up and got a better view of the copy room

It was lunch break still and my mouth had its fill
But that was foreplay and I didn’t get to take her pink lace bra off
Well . . . She already had and occupied her hands, I just stood there watching the ordeal
Her body shaking softly as the printer hummed almost muffled, soft

The humming increased and soon I zoned out
Awake to find myself in my office across from hers
No, I’m not telling her the pink of her bra was popping out
I’ll just bring it up the next time our bodies converse.

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