Wet his fingers
Walk on her lips
Making them wet even more
Dry they reach at her eyes
Wipe the moisture
They should glitter
He makes sure
Caressing her ears
And her neck
He assures
That her hair falls
Little over her breasts
He touches them around
Rubbing for a glow
And grunts
Saturating his fingers by saliva:
A natural ointment
For the bruises and the burns
An unintentional blotch
Gets him more work on her breasts
To make it fade a bit
His hands move
Away from her armpits
To take out the best
Of his
And her breasts.
He reaches on her belly
Cuddles around her navel
“Does that tickle?”
Saying this moves to her thighs
Takes a step back
Few deep breaths and sighs
Venturing out was relaxing
But ‘inside of it’ gets him prickles
He swings in love and in lust
Walking on her body
Admiring her laying bare
Heaves a sigh
Now the body is painted whole
“She only needs a soul.”

The canvas of desires
Always seeks colours
No matter how many of those
It consists.


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