“The evening was a whirlwind – we were all frenzied and taut, bodies shaking and grinding with none of those wasted moments of precious and too little time.
Tomorrow would come, but tonight my longing for you became a desire to hold you close and press my lips to your rich black-diamond skin. I slipped my tongue into your wet essence, delving into the dark depths of your liquid delights.
My pulse quickened as your fluids rushed over my palate like a Jamaican waterfall of melted creamy caramel sin. I swallowed the first crescendo of satisfaction and reached for you again and again and again, until my need was sated and I switched to decaf.”
I believe the above poem sums up how much we authors love and must have our coffee to survive.