AT YOUR FEET

At your feet, I am yours. I do as I am told. Outstretched tongue and doe eyed stare - silently begging for your gift - as your fingertips tangle my hair. You pull it tight to move me forward until I envelop you. The sound is unmistakable. A gentle gag followed by an interrupted giggle, for it is nearly impossible to properly express my glee with you down my throat.