Electric Fingers

Dining, our arms reach and electric fingers connect,
and sparks dissolve in the depths of delighted eyes.
Our legs lock and linger, subtly then fiercely connected.
Unable to slake our thirst with wine, we depart.
Silent steps resonate in our racing minds, arms entwined,
your hand places mine on your firm breast and
I stroke the burgeoning nipple, captive, like me.
We embrace and caress, your softness melts, mine stiffens.
Our pace quickens, then stops, tongues duel in a murky nook,
a simple simulation of more basic desires.
I am firm and fervent against your thigh and
your palm tenaciously seeks my pulsating pendulum.
I moan, "not here" (do I really mean it?) and
we move on to where the moonlit balcony beckons
and our passionate hands know no limits.
Within moments, you leave, returning soon,
or was it hours later, sensual, seductive,
silky lace now framing your feline form.
My trousers are tossed aside with careless abandon
and a sea breeze cools only my legs
as you bow to your hidden audience
in the fluorescent black blue vista.
Sighing, your sleek spread legs illicitly lure
my furtive fingers to moist fabric, revealing
a pink smoothness, that summons me to feast
on the scented, salty sweet oyster of your open body.
This succulent starter sates me not and thrusting,
my dilated tumescence pierces you profoundly,
my fire filling your core with cupidity.
Pausing; I am transported to a sexual rhapsody
by the warm clasping closure of your womanhood.
Touching, teasing, teaching, thrusting, throbbing,
city lights and sounds, blend into the background
of our own tensions, building and subsiding,
into an easy beat. Fingers touch where I enter your soaked sex,
up to your pearl and down again, and in rhythmic cadence,
you build to a crescendo of weak kneed contractions.
I support your taut muscles as they milk me
into excruciating exquisite revelations of release.
We slow, stop, satiated for now, I slip
unwillingly from your warmth and as we turn,
our arms reach and electric fingers connect..