BRoken WOrd

Sonder Son

The album plays on repeat

Haze fills the cinnamon accented living room as you sit between my legs

I pass you the spliff, too focused on a new braid
You rub the birthmark on my thigh

Sending chills up my spine
Nimble fingers appraising my curves

Dipping my fingers in Blue Magic I massage your scalp

You hum, pressing your lips to the soft flesh behind my knee

I tingle you know just what you do to me

I hurriedly finish

Ebony rows of kinky curls tucked in neat rows

You climb over me, shotgunning the pineapple tasting smoke

You play too much

Egging me on, always wanting me to make the first move

You cradle my thighs, pressing your covered manhood against me

The breath I'm holding I lose

I hold back a moan, you suckle my neck

Seeing how many moans you can make me elect

Missing Out bellows through the speakers

Brent's voice honey as you strip
Every article of clothing from me

You put the roach to my lips as you go south

I'm careful with your tender scalp as you pleasure me with your mouth

Smoke clouds my lungs as my juices drench your tongue

You grow against me making me shiver
Coming up north your mouth drenched in my liquid tender

You peck my lip slyly releasing yourself from your boxers and teasing me with your tip

You press in taking all logical thought away from me, I claw at your back trying to get some kind of bearings

You groan your pleasure, our juices a pool between us as the records resets to one

Sipping on Sonder Son as you tear my walls asunder