Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Diana Sep 2018
You trace my lips
With your fingertips
You softly chuckle
Biting your bottom lip
To stifle your laughter
At the sound of my silent
Whimpering
As my eyes urgently plead
With thoughts
That would cause me to blush
If I were to vocalize them
They are soon replaced
With your lips
Flushed against mine
As your hands slowly
Begin their descent
Deftly grazing
Against the curves of my body
Which you've memorized
Inch
By
Inch

— The End —