Thy Cup Runneth Over
(A Sonnette)

I worship at the mound, my senses filled
With musky Goddess warmth and slipp’ry taste
You shiver, shout, and in orgasmic haste
Your holy water from within is spilled.

We cuddle, spent, while candle flickers show
How chin to brow, I with your essence glow
My body blessed by your baptismal flow.

— Stace Johnson, 2006