Buttercup

Early morning, I’m half asleep,
My ass curled towards your belly,
Three blankets warm and heavy over us,
Shelter.

Your two fingers on my asshole,
Spreading spit, spreading lube,
Like spreading jam something sweet,
In circles inwards and I rub back against you – more.

Your sticky fingers reach around my sleepy body toasty,
Pull my nipples and twist – my ass levitates,
Your dick pushing forward and back, forward and back,
My asshole opening up like a buttercup,
Soft petals falling away to reveal the stamen,
Hold this under your chin to see if you like butter,
And I do, all slippery inside.

At the same moment,
Like choreographed ice-skaters – graceful gold glitter twirling,
We meet, you inside me and I around you,
Eight inches of silicone and lube and waking up dreams,
And sweat, my back to your chest holding one another,
Your mouth, your words covering me so sticky.

Blankets holding our groans as we fuck,
My cunt and ass tightening and my dick hard,
Your hands holding my tits like reins,
Your hips and my ass like pistons or gears or something mechanical where one cannot move without the other,
Your teeth on my shoulder with drool and sharp – you bite
Everything wet, buttercup.