His cock is a Story Teller

His hands, 
though worn and rough
Touch me, 
and my skin comes alive.

Awakened by his presence.
His love can be felt as he 
performs magic with my breast.
I crave more.
I need more.

My pulse echoes 
in my entire body 
as his hand graces 
my inner thigh.
 
Enough teasing me,
I need his love
Hard and rough,
 passionate, 
pushing my boundaries, 
proving my love, 
and sharing my orgasm vocally.

His cock is a story teller, 
stories of love like I've never known.
More! More!
The more I take it
The more I want, it's a drug.
 
And I am an addict.
His dick enters me and 
I hear orchestras, 
beautiful music.

We dance to the music for hours.
Sweat pours and I can feel his 
tired breath against my face
As I bury my head in his chest.
 
I still twitch from the 
flood of orgasms 
I just gladly endured.