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Nov 21
A whisper slips through the ether's sway,
A sultry secret to brighten his day.
A snapshot taken, a tease, a dare,
A playful reminderβ€”no fabric is there.

Wherever I wander, whatever I do,
The thought lingers softly, deliciously true.
No lace to confine, no silk to betray,
Only the thrill of the game we play.

It's easy, it's wicked, a spark in the night,
A message of longing, of pure delight.
Through the lens, my confession, my silent decree:
I am bare beneath, and he's the key.
Styles
Written by
Styles  NYC
(NYC)   
174
   DENNY R ALLISON
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