maestro

fingers trailing across hot skin like the gentlest of rain running with no clear path

dancing in chaos with hidden order to caress every hidden secret

flicking tip of hungry tongue and lips

like a bee, circling the bloom so intoxicatingly full of pollen

spreading the petals of the flower with burning need to find the gently resting treasure

spinning slowly in circles around it, tentative, exploratory, finding a rhythm based on the arching back and softly whispered moans

less hesitant

soon alternating between fevered need and restraint

taking the symphony of desire to the heights of crescendo before halting just at the edge of the final glorious note

only to fall back into slow and teasing refrains

a conductor with tongue as baton directing the flow and ebb of symphonic pleasure for an audience of one

finally every instrument, breath, lip, fingertip and tongue find the edge of the tempest and allow it to burst into life

riding along as the ocean boils, the earth shakes, the chorus erupts into an aria of release

only to begin again

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