She slides her index finger knuckle deep and twirls it around
It emerges, enveloped in a scrumptious coat of buttercream
She daringly brings the sugar to my mouth
I squirm as her frosting-tipped finger pushes past my lips
Only some makes it to my anxious tongue
She explores the back of my teeth,
Before teasing my lips with her soft, wet touch
Her eyes pin me down as she brings her hand to her mouth
I watch as she sucks the remaining frosting from her fingers
Delighted by the saccharin pleasure all over her face
She grins, sliding two fingers back into the jar.