Dabbling with Erotica...

There's something about  honey; sweet and sticky and altogether too cloying for anything but sex.  Nothing will do but long lazy hours of love-making - no frantic fucking that dissipates as soon as it begins - but arching bodies that melt into each other as ice cream in the sun.  It's the deliberate drizzling of nectar across one breast, the taut moment as it's licked off - tongue darting out in tiny butterfly-like caresses - and the puckering of the nipple as it's released from the warm mouth.  There's nothing deliberating about fucking, but the very compound nature of love-making implies dedication, craftsmanship and the creation of an end product to be marvelled at.