Warning – adults only
You look at a tree and see a fruit that you’ve never experienced before. You study it, trying to figure out what it is. You speculate and wonder how it exists, doing mental gymnastics in trying to make sense of it. You’ve never touched it, tasted it, smelled it... all you’ve done is look at it way up there hanging from the branches and come to some cerebral ideas about it. You have some knowledge of it via your mental imaging and build some story around it, fabricated out of your reasoning mind.
Along comes someone - could have been someone you know – who says they’ve actually held the fruit, smelled it and tasted it. You ask them what it tastes like. Saliva dribbles from your lips just thinking about it. The person has no way to describe it, because the taste is really all about tasting it, not talking about it. The person cannot offer the fruit to you, and you really want to touch it, smell it and taste it. But you can only talk about it.
And that, then, is the problem in deliberations of this nature.
So you see why I have to be quiet, Cha-in. My pleasure will be your pleasure. Let me hear you moan with fulfilment, but it will make no difference. I won’t even acknowledge your arousal. My lips will be sealed throughout.
After you have consummated my desires it’ll be my turn to taste your fruit. I’ll commence with an entrée of all your bodily orifices, followed by a main-course carvery, and then a sublime dessert where I engorge juice from your severed arteries. It won’t be quick; I want to linger and savour every gourmet moment.
The exquisite longing has undone me. I’m ready. I see you’re down on your knees like you’ve been taught. That’s good, my little Buddha. Wrap your arms around my tremulous thighs and press your face close, tongue eager to please me.
Now, lick my wet cunny.