Passionate Brisance
Oh how sweet the passion,
Oh how deep loves glance,
When we make love's sweet fashion,
We cry from passionate brisance.

We never are recreant,
As we search for passion's fair,
Often our love flows, passion spent,
Running through each other's hair.

Enamored by your graces,
Love's sweet joy is surreal,
Passion kisses your lips and places,
Orgasmic bells, they peal.

Heaving breasts, upward thrusting, shower.
Breathing in the fire,
No one compares to your sweet flower,
Glistening with passion's pure desire.

Licking off the dew of lust,
Faster, harder your clit is shaking,
Holding you while pelvis thrust,
Feeling my sweet universe quaking.

Come! Oh yes! Come to me!
Come all on my face!
Come to me! My sweet Kitten Sweet!
Come! Your love, so sweetly tastes!

Faster licking. Fingers deeply,
And my tongue so quick!
Heaven knows you come completely,
From every passionate flick!

Hanging on to feelings tight,
Sweet passion had its' way,
No more hard, fast, blank-and-white,
Now our passion borders gray!

Fastidious in our kisses,
Our passion is incessant!
We love the sex! Our red hot kisses!
The passion's flower; marcescent.