The sweetness of her flesh

Amelia Cortez, brown skin like sugar cane, perfumed black hair that favors
nightfall on a moonlit evening, I tremble that you my forbid my lips from
further pursuing the boundaries of just some ordinary kiss, should you by
chance so desire what quickens the restricted heart, armed with equal
playfulness, I listen, I hear your inside voice ticking restlessly, as I bury my face
between the swells of your firm breasts, where I find comfort as you do also.