As I descend
into your passion kiss,
your hands roam me.
Tenacious.
In your quest for my secret garden.
Eager caresses
on my anxious breast.
The abrupt rush
that ripens me.
And I drift into sex.
With you.
An animal intensity
pursues my trail.
Captured.
By my beckoning scent.
Teasing.
My warm, pink velvet.
Guiding.
Me to your inspired lips.
Craving my taste.
A symphony begins.
And my arching back
indulges in your talent
as you perform.
Then consumes me softly.
In our erotic abyss.

01/08/2002

Posted on 09/20/2002
Copyright © 2024 Quinlan L Gibson