Kissing;
always a fine art,
even more so when tis a
child's mouth being engaged thus.

Sizes,
contrasting markedly,
do not at all prevent
my lips meeting hers in sinful fashion.

Her loveliness
of age and face
does demand I induct her into
things she barely understands. She's ten.

My favourite age
for this, arguably,
because of prettiness, obedience
and innocence in the finest unique balance.

Her face
quietly awaits
my lusty adult devouring,
again for this strange education.

Blonde
her hair is, hanging
loose and uncombed over
narrow shoulders which I clutch to start.

Clothed,
for now my angel,
as mild but illicit kissing
is only my focus; but with rooting tongue.

Freckles
speckle her nose,
her half-smile like the painting
she shares her name with; this Lisa has blue eyes.

Sweet
and timid they are,
but blurring this close up, as
I feast for little girl breath and saliva.

Overawed
is what she is, as
my hands clasp her head,
like some entrapment of a werewolf on his prey.

Overwhelmed
is what she is, as
I intensify the kissing and tongue-play,
whilst moving my hand down onto her bum.

My span
can neatly manage
both soft buttocks and crack,
just like my mouth can enclose hers.

My groping
moves inside
her clothes to investigate her sides and chest,
on which there is nothing but flat flesh and nipples.

I drink
my fill of her warm and
moist oral sweetness, satisfied
I have burrowed into her child-throat.

My penis
is hardened to the full
by now, and Lisa knows it
because I encouraged her hand in to grip it.

Intimidated
is what she is, but
not hurting in the least.
Trouble is, at this point I need my release.

Onward
to a fuck, perhaps?
She might cry again, a bit, as
it tries to fit her hairless slit.

The armchair
will be the place, so
I can carry on the kissing
while she squats around to get cummed up.

Kissing;
always a fine art
especially with a child her age,
exquisite in itself or as prelude to outrage.