13800
Day has turned to night and here we are, just workin late, the project's due tomorrow morning, coffee percolates, to keep our bodies going through a workday that is long, what makes it rough's the tension that's between us, and it's strong.
Professionals we are and interact in quarters close, with nervous looks and giggles like somebody's gonna know, that what lies dormant in between us soon is gonna show, like something under black light in the dark that's gonna glow.
You're standing up behind me at my desk and get a whiff, of Fahrenheit, the scent which now adorns my neck and wrists, you then inhale it deep as if you went and necked a spliff, I feel slight moisture as you lean and give my neck a kiss.
For lack of better words I'm shocked and in complete surprise, you're married after all, a fact of which you cease denial, my chair soon turns around as you then straddle me and smile, our eyes are locked like doors at night across the seas and miles.
The first kiss lifts us up like closing elevator doors, your lips so soft and wet it makes a fella ache for more,
you then slide off my lap so that your kneecaps face the floor, my slacks have disappeared so darlin what you waitin for?
I'm up and at attention like The Army in a drill, you're moaning softly as I'm disappearin in your grill,
I reappear to vanish, up and down you're workin now, what really turns me on is when you make that slurpin sound,
which I can't take no more I lift you up to tongue you down, our hearts are dancing wildly, can't you hear that drumming sound? I guess you can't once items leave my desk and hit the floor, you lay and spread your legs I try my best to hit the core,
of your Caucasian womanhood, my tongue does pirouettes, your ballet screams are ones a cunnilingual hero gets, for puttin in this overtime that makes a real hole wet, until you're squirtin phones and keyboards with that clear Moette (Moét).
I wipe my mouth of flights down south and then I stand up tall, to pull you off the desk and prop you up with hands on walls, behind us in the window, this'll be the time for all, to witness Bill and Halle in reverse like Monster's Ball.
I wonder just how long it's been since hubby touched your spot, then grit my molars at the utter grip of such a tw@t, I run in you relentless like police run up the block, I also feel it comin like I'm bout to bust a rock,
the size of foot and basketballs we f*ck like it's a sport, your neck's all red; you've never felt it quite like this fa sho, the past half hour feels like just a minute maybe two, I pull out as you kneel and catch a face of baby goo.
You slowly trace your cheek then lick your fingers; KFC, to claim a golden statue for the role of J's best freak, and though our guilt's apparent for this hopeless kind of sin, I'd Michael Jordan jump to work you; overtime again.
©2012
The Cunning Linguist
