Pretending to be your call-girl one night,
I come around looking just right,
To your front door in my spike-healed boots,
Anxious to see if the outfit suits.

Taking your time as not to tear paper,
You lift my skirt then say "wait here."
On go the lights of the Christmas tree,
Back you come to unwrapping me.

Tripping towards the window chair, 

Cars driving by catch a stare,
At you parting my thighs wide with your knees,

Me arching back with a need to please.

Down before me then you drop,

All hurriedness seems to stop,

Tracing edges with your nose,

Savoring fragrance, eyes sweetly closed.

And on my mouth there forms a grin,
Petals caressed with bare chin,
Sighing resumes, as you lick with leisure,

A cone full of your favorite flavor.

Not content with petting for long,
Like a cat the urge too strong,

Purring starts a reverie,
Lips melting with sweet honey.

Fingers used to stir the flow, 

Knowing you like watching the show,

And to your mouth is offered a taste,

Not one drop let go to waste.

Whispering, "tell me what you need," 

No more time for play I plead,
"I will do anything you ask,
Fulfilling your fantasy my only task."