The Pleasure Principle

I'm dying of thirst to feast in-between your thighs, My tongue so
violent I will send you on a sexual high, Cuffing and locking your
legs while you grab my head, As I lick deeper and lift you clean
off the bed, You holding onto the ceiling as I give you orgasmic
flashes, Heating you up and putting you out like a book of matches,
Making you bust like a bus hitting a fire hydrant, Laying you down
while you look at me like money well spent, Jumping on top of you
like a lion pouncing on his prey, Penetrating your vessel and
rocking my hips as we both begin to sway, You're laid down and
overwhelmed like three rolls of the dice, Playing this game of
chance as I hit your lucky seven, eleven and twelve spots, Seven,
for the seven ways I'm gonna make you scream my name, Eleven is for
the odd ways we'll explore the limits of pleasure and pain, Twelve,
is for the twelve positions I use to play your game, Leaving you
satisfied to make you think twice, From there, everytime you see
me, I will leave you five kinds of hot.