Lips upon my lips Tongue upon my tongue You trace the outline of my lips with your succulent tongue In a very circular motion like the rings that surround Saturn Your lips taste like the finest wine Grown for me at the finest vineyard in the south of France They are so juicy; sometimes I want to bite them Your tongue is like a well-oiled machine I want to touch it; I want to suck on it I love when our tongues interact with each other They have minds of their own To have your tongue touch me is a pleasure and a privilege That sometimes I don’t think I’m worthy enough to enjoy The moistness, the heavy breathing It’s all too much to bare. When our tongues are intertwined, sometimes I need to pause . . . To catch my breath, But only for a second. Then I want to dive back in Like an Olympic swimmer! Our tongues are moving at like 100 r.p.m.’s Your tongue has on those Swimmer’s goggles, mine those little Speedo’s. They glide together (Backstroke-Breaststroke) They are made for each other. They are ONE.