by Thulielove Gifted Hands Sodumo
I could lose and find myself in a woman’s touch.
It makes me turn in and out of myself.
The soft feather light touches.
So deliberate and meant
The softness of the lips against my skin
The warm tongue leaving trails of soft,
warm and wet ecstasy
I need a touch.
Yes a touch that will break all barriers.
This touch will be so soft and gentle.
It will touch my soul and all the butterflies
will reside in my tummy.
I will close my eyes and lose myself in the touch.
In my lust-induced stage
I will fall and melt under the mercy of this touch.
I will be warm, pliant and very willing
for the touch to explore my body
Moan low and sexy.
In a controlled passion the touch will fondle,
stroke the pressure so subtle.
The heat generated by the friction of skin against skin
will drive me absolutely and completely wild.
My skin will burn,
the thrill of excitement racing through me.
I will squirm under the touch.
lose every sense I have in the feel of the bare
flesh strung tight by the heady
hope that the touch would slip lower and lower.
The air is sultry sexy somehow
as if every molecule has joined the touch
to caress and tease my overheated skin.
A low pressure will mount in-between my legs,
a telltale dampness that will want me to be stroked.
Breathing will be shallow.
Make a little gasping noise.
Eyes barely opened
The heat inside me will show through my eyes.
As if a pilot light is nestled right there
in between my thighs
I won’t be able to turn down the lust.
Like a mental slut all my fantasies will play in my head.
Feeling a bit like a very turned-on lab rat.
A warm languor will spread through my entire body.
I’d feel light-headed.
Bordering on desperation, gasping to breath.
Dammit voice so low and sultry
I will scream
“take me as I am”
I will shiver in anticipation.
Absorbing the touch, memorizing how it feels
as if I want to hang on the memory forever.
I will be on the edge, right on the precipice
A feather light touch and I’d explode
with an orgasm like nothing I’d seen before.
Body twitching as I writ against the hand
Under a woman’s touch the possibilities are endless.
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