I Came In Her Coffee Cup

I came in her coffee cup when she left her seat to relieve.
I was throbbing hard long before my artful approach and daring deposit.
And I was more generous and more incautious than I had conceived.
The heavier bits submerged while the sauce swam superficial.
So with the wooden stirrer I masked its savor and obscured its initials.

Eagerly awaiting her return, I sat calmly in surreptitious innocuity.
My eyes deeply doted on her plump lips puckering the porcelain
Brim and lighting me with a frenzied shiver of erotic ecstasy.
My savory ambrosia adhering to her lips, stretching thin as she conducted the cup away.
Her hushing finger cut the stubborn solitary web of cum and she swallowed it undismayed.

To my suprise, she raised the bottom up and coquettishly consumed the whole lot.
Captivated by her unabashed gluttony for my divinely gifted nectar,
Both my incredulous jaw and debaucherous jocosity dropped, sterilized hot.
She set the vacated cup down and glanced searingly at me with a vanquishing cool.
I swallowed that pit in my throat, remembering that lions always played with their food.