Spring waters run through lapis-lined tunnels for her growing fruit. Her nectar is better than the sun-fattened figs. Only matched by the milk of her ...reasts. Our Master and sisters do care for her especially, but, not as deeply as I. My love for her is untamed, like wild flower-ladened river banks. If I could produce seed, I would bury into her deeply, gifting myself an enduring climax. An ever driving crescendo, generated from delight in her birthing pains, and ecstasy in filling her. Our eyes met. There was no reaction on her face; neither on mine. No words exchanged. We kept looking. She turned around. I took her face in my hands still looking at her eyes. I lowered my lips onto her and waited near hers. She responded back with putting her lips on mine. We went crazy after that. Trying to eat each other’s lips…We kept kissing. Her hands moved on my bare chest from under my t-shirt. I cupped her left breast with my right hand and move my left hand to back of her neck. We. More

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