Am I Too Bold My Love?

May I be bold my love? You said yourself we ought to not hold back. It came to me the other night, do you recall, you stuck your digit without warning in my face, and slipped inside, encountering no Résistance, and played around with tongue, came way too close and almost touched my uvula, teased salivary glands and scratched which woke the hyoid bone but it was not this bold activity that etched the deed into my mind, how shall I put it it may well have been a culinary touch, and, for a connoisseur which I take pride in to have been a lifetime now, it was a summit, yes, it ought to be explained yet words do fail me, love. While I was savouring and salivating (likely from the glandular massage) I said a dozen prayers, even though I doubt that God himself, rebuffed by me would really be of help, but, low you went, behold you did and, one by one, all fingers peeked and slipped right in, it was a steamy feast. I did, I'm being honest here, for moments lose what I had come to do, the thought had vanished then and bold receptor cells inside the skull sent signals to the front, the sella turcica, there would not be, this night of nights, a further use of hormones to be sent into gonadaland, this may suffice, and it was heavenly, until the felon spoke and said it would be strange to leave the golden fields with all their fragrances and with their bees, without partaking of the offered fruits, and he was right, thank God for common sense, and so the time went on, and things were kind, there was the evening sun just leaving with a smile and words were heard, one word was Camelot, a castle in the sky to which all kindred souls retire for the night. What I was meaning though, to say, to ask you, love, is somewhat odd, it would be best if you could guess or I could be a mime, words don't do justice here, but, since you do insist, I wonder, would you mind, or even like or grow a woman's scorn if I could come to watch, I am quite partial to the little stalagtite and like the way it points as if to say this way my boy, and i would promise to behave, be silent if it suits, I'd keep an eagle eye upon the cave, and wait, no matter what it takes, (I do not mean to rush) , until the little river flows, its lavalike eau d'or will come to see the world and would be greeted by an eager tongue, I have been dreaming sweet, am willing to discern with you, if matters told in earnest as a wish would get the nod. So, well, does this, mean I am truly odd? Don't answer that, it matters not, it's you, and only you who must decide, and to assist, I shall be here, right by your side, resting my head on either knee to help with thoughts society has placed like barricades before our joys and it is best ignored what spinsters say, I know you will be fine, and see our way, as after all, the thought is really shared, having evolved from you and me, the two of us, whose love has grown by bounds, so let us leap, into a bed of silk and linger there.