don’t stop touching me - sex poem #1

let the fingers linger

Longer and thicker

Harder then slower

Drag me into the depths of you

Interrupted gasps

Moans in the silence

all I can say is what I’m thinking

It feels so good

The icy cold air grips my skin

But only the parts of our body that touch

Are torched

Lips, chins, hands on the cheeks.

Hands on the hips.

That sweet spot in the upper inner thigh; the one that opens the floodgate,

the rush of blood being forced to his touch.

It tickles closer.

You pull him on top of you

To go again.