Her skin soft as a love song presses delicously against the flat work scarred palms of my eager hands and I feel her tingling vibrating sending glorious sensual signals to my brain increasing my awareness of sight and sound and smell and I taste her breathe her live her deep deeply inside of her and she brushes honey’d lips across my proud swollen chest tracing the cursed words of love upon my body and my soul with her juicy delinquent tongue but as she kneels before her chosen altar it is not she that prays but I.
From Peter Pan to Casanova in one fail swoop lb......smile....very erotica indeed..
and yes....
lol Emma......but now you see what I mean at least...men go straight to the ...ahem......point?...whereas us women leave a little to the imagination! which is very hard to do actually...
actually; on reflection lb....I am not sure I have the saying right when I said one fail swoop? What I meant was you changed your style so easily from one minute to the other.....I have lost the subtlety of such sayings and I am not even sure what it means? Valerie X
Ladies...don't you just think this poet is silver tongued???
Lb, I have just read through your work for the last couple of days and I agree with Valerie, just 'how many' facets are there to your concepts. You have crossed the colour spectrun from dark blue to end here in 'red hot'...steaming...but, so goooood! Zed
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- I think you may just have stolen the title back with this poem lb - now that is very hot! And on a Saturday lunch hour as well.
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