Here

It’s here: our pulses slowly start to quicken;
While dancing with bright heat fuelled eyes,
They Linger long- then slowly start to glisten,
As our warming hands- reach out for soft
-Yet slowly hardening skin.
Here the music moves our slow motion,
It fuels the traces of thin beads of sweat,
Like tears of dew crystal pearls, who sing;
To render to the ancient of all gods this:
-our growing sensual offering.
Slow fingers that now turn with tender curls,
As flowing raw images of raw bodies swirl:
And as their Lips, nipped and then suck in,
So a warming throb deep down begins:
-To wrap us up with bliss.
The images: they become so very bright
Mixed of ample breast and muscle tight;
And moist lips that move within a circle:
Are turning in increased unsteady motion:
-Where everything is in-verbal.
Revolving on towards the heated union:
There is a quickening: a nervous touch
But on the edge we rest our fusion;
To now pull back fast, is it too much?
-Or is it mere illusion?
And then again we slowly now collide,
Here we wrestle to the softest touch,
We then hold back until souls abide
To then shout release, and in our skin:
-We then ache, and throb within.

(c) adh2o13