Yorkshire UK M4F

The excitement is electric, a hum in the bone,
Yet her muscles go slack, leaving her alone
With a feeling of floating, of drifting on air,
As the suckling pulls her from worry and care.
It’s a paradox perfect, a strange, sweet design,
Where the thrill of the nipple makes her mind unwind.

She feels the rush rising, a fire in the vein,
But her body is heavy, a soft, sinking rain.
The more he sucks deep, the more she lets go,
As the tension of living begins to flow
Out through her toes, out through her hands,
Leaving her weightless, held in his hands.

Her breath catches, sharp, then slows to a sigh,
As the nipple, so tender, becomes her whole sky.
The excitement is wild, a spark in the dark,
But the relaxation is deep, like a warm, healing ark.
She feels the vibration, the wet, steady pull,
And her mind goes silent, the chaos is full
Of nothing but him, and the rhythm he keeps,
While the rest of the world in a quiet sleep.

He gives her the focus, the total, deep gaze,
And she melts into pleasure, lost in a daze.
No thought of tomorrow, no fear of today,
Just the wet, loving mouth that washes it away.
The nipple is pulsing, a beacon of light,
Guiding her gently from struggle to night.

She’s excited to feel, to be touched, to be known,
Yet so deeply relaxed that she’s barely alone.
The suckling is anchor, the suckling is flight,
Holding her steady in soft, velvet night.
Every pull is a promise, every suckle a cure,
Making her body feel perfectly sure.

She floats in the sensation, a ship on the sea,
Where the only thing real is the intimacy.
Excited and calm, a perfect, sweet blend,
Where the pleasure begins and the worries all end.
Just the taste of her skin, the heat of his breath,
And the quiet, deep peace that follows the death
Of every old worry, every heavy, old fear,
Replaced by the comfort of having him near.