Where are those big puffy labias? The type that swell and grow, imprinting themselves on damp sticky knickers like lips behind a veil, two thick ridges, a fertile valley between them, cleft open like hungry lips, demanding to be uncovered, defiled and claimed.

Let that clitoris rise, a new mountain to be climbed, plump and majestic, it's slippery slopes lashed by the elements that my tongue unleashes on it. Pulse, with volcanic activity, pour your lava, shake the earth of your hips as I gasp and cling on, withstanding your elemental forces.

I'll plant my flag as the earth closes up around me, working deep, those soft lips at the surface enveloping me, and that powerful substrate locking tight around me, pulsing with life, consuming me as I force open a seam of longing, drill it's depths, and then flood it with thick rivulets of liquid gold