Its not because she varies her movements
Or even that she forces me
on my stomach
and presses hard into my back

Its Not even when her thigh penetrates into my vulva

Or that smooth constant motion rising up in my pelvic floor

Or the synchronicity of her sword torching upwards to my heart

or Even her regal harmony that fills
every corner of my yet equal
Or her angled approaching topping the switcher parts of my odd

She is my rider

And I am her thrusting mutual muse

We foreplay the moments

Making the positions tang

This hip kindly participation

Her thriller friction is richly
A pleasure that stimulates rhythmic pitching

I am her catcher

I am her longings that desire worship


Its
Its
Its her intense vibrations
That climb
That journey me
That contact
Spice and adventure
Its
Its
Its
More that her sensational bump and grind
Its her
Its her

Heart
Mounting mine


Always and forever your sweet tarte
From the body of christ