Sipping the blonde

I blow gently into the cup,

Ripplet of dimple on her cheek;

The blonds smiles invitingly to me

With all warmth of youthful lust.

I kiss her wet lips;

They slide into my mouth,

Melt, pour warm and filter

Through my sensitive tongue,

Funnelled throat and spongy stomach

Into the quiet flow of blood.

Storm in the tea cup,

Slowly, steadily and agreeably

Stirs up in my blood stream

A warming breeze,

As if pleasantly aroused

By the tightening embrace

Of a timid but zealous novice.

Unlike the soulless kick of liquor,

With cupidity intensified by suppressions,

The lust of an unchaste young widow,

That’ll ingnite fire in arteries;

Agreeable and exhilarating it is

To slip from the cup

Blonde tea, fresh and warm.