That Last Drop.

That last drop. That last drop symbolizing so many beautiful things. Completion. Satisfaction. Orgasm. Fulfillment. Release. Pleasure. Calm. That last drop that falls from his head as he sleeps soundly after fucking me well; after climbing on top of him and riding his dick to my ecstasy. That last drop after he discovers new depths in my yoni; hits spots in my kitty that instantaneously cause me to arch my back and purr for more. That last drop after I swallow his seeds down my throat as he releases his energy into me. That last drop seeping slowly from the eye of his dick. Torn between sensual choices; whether or not to allow it to trickle from its doorway, down the side of his thick head and on to his smooth dark thigh. Alone. Or entertain myself as I touch it with two fingers, playing with its wet elasticity, somewhat different from the seeds that spill during sex; but moreso, the aftermath. The last one standing. Feeling its stickiness between my thumb and index finger like a child plays with glue. Or will I choose my favorite. To use the tastebeads on the tip of my tongue and lick the last drop of his sweet salty seed.. That last drop that makes me smile; let’s me know, I done good. I satisfied him. I quenched his thirst…for the moment. That last drop as I gaze at his spent manhood. The penis that has me dickmatized and wrapped around its chocolate shaft. That last drop of after cum that makes me want to cum after him…Again.