"Top of the morning to ya!" I yelled to none, "To you, too!" yelled none. My sore throat bled like a virgin, smoothly and not much. Lady of the night was mine to touch. Dead to the world she was sleeping, until my tongue came flipping. Poverty of the soul was the reason behind our nudeness, every mortal needs some undressing to richen the poor soul every once in a while. Before none but our mournful bodies, we fed our poor souls again. Our sheet was covered by the outcomes of her body's pleasure, and her body was covered by our never-to-be-born children. Guilt came knocking at her door and she started talking about her boyfriend and what a big mistake I was. Oh, my beautiful young one, when was I ever not a mistake?
Time flew, our paths crossed once again in the same bed. Our tongues touched one another with fidelity and hunger. Her forearm leaning on the back of my neck made me gasp, yet I kept kissing those winey lips sweeter than a pie. If I were to breathe my last, I'd like to go choking on her winey lips with relish. She didn't let me die just yet, and took our clothes off in the blink of an eye. Between her legs was a fountain of pleasure already, and god whispered from there. Heaven I found between her legs. She moaned as I wandered around in that heaven and her eyes rolled and her hands pressed hard against my back. Corners of her belly I held tightly and I kissed her neck warmly. Then I took her legs upon my shoulders and grabbed her thighs. She cried her grief out between her legs and so did I, upon her chest soon after. Our sheet was once again covered by the outcomes of her pleasure, and we slept upon her pleasure with a smile on our tired and sweaty faces.
Came the morning I woke. With a shy face she trembled for me. I did lay myself beside her once again, and left her caress for fed were our souls.
