Dirty Talking Man

Sliding up your thigh,
cold as a flame
you clench against the bonds,
then relax.
You could tear them loose,
but prefer the pretense of helplessness.
You wait,
sightless,
for my next touch.
Your nether lips,
already full and hot
from our other games,
mouth me closer,
so I glide the frozen tease
gently over them.
I can almost hear them sizzle
as you hiss
and involuntarily pull away,
then with a chuckle of contentment
tip your hips back up at me.
But now those lips are bright and glistening,
but cold,
so I lick them warm with my hot tongue,
and taste the delicious blend of tastes.
Orange - more a colour than a flavour,
memories of childhood summer days,
changed forever now.
You push with pleasure against my lips,
so I pull back,
then trail the frozen delight past your navel,
up your ribs
you pull again against your restraints
as your side shivers into goosebumps.
And the same anticipatory chill swirls
into your nipples,
already erect,
pushing them even higher.
I slowly circle the left one,
closer and closer,
with the softening,
but still cold,
popsicle.
Gently stroke it,
as it reddens and hardens,
then suck it into my warm mouth
like a frozen strawberry.
Back down I slide,
to your hips,
as they gently,
restlessly squirm.
I tease your clit,
chill it,
then suck it warm,
chill it,
suck it
you're getting more impatient now,
as your juices wash away the syrup.
So in goes the frozen dessert,
quickly,
and you catch your breath
as I twist it back and forth.
Then it's softening,
crumbling,
I dig deep with my tongue
for my orange Slurpee,
sucking it out with your juices,
all chilled and syrupy inside now.
And suddenly I slide up
and thrust right in with my hot cock
the contrast is too much for you,
the bonds are torn,
your arms and legs wrapped around me
as we both grasp
and shake
and shudder
and jerk
and quiver
and then subside
into a series of mini-shivers,
after-shocks,
wrapped in our warmth.