Touch Me

Touch Me

Touch me, feel me. I need you.
Words in whispers, caressing the silence,
Hands that gently conduct their pleasure over me,
Your skilled hands, arousing in me pure desire,
born of lust, driving me to passionate heights,
burning me, consuming me, liberating me.

Touch me, hold me, embrace me with fire.
I will not run from your arms and into another,
for the heat of you is what I crave.
Feel my eyelids, feel my lips.
Take my face into your hands and I will surrender.
Take your hands over my hips, and I will tremble.
Hear your heartbeat, hear mine.

Touch me and guide your strong hand
downward to my private, intimate womanhood,
which waits for your hands and lips and tongue.
Touch the woman in me, touch it. Let me move my
hips and part my legs and see me glisten with wetness.
Know that I wait for you and long for you, needing you
to take me from the dullness of silence and stillness.

Free me, free me with your kiss.
Let our tongues duel, entwine, let our hands
touch and our bodies begin the age-old dance.
The sounds of us drawing breath serves as the
beat, the moans we produce as musical strains.
Do not end this dream so briefly, do not extinguish
the burning candle's flame, do not deny me this.

Take me, possess me, slip your manhood, so strong and good,
like a sword, and sheath me with it, delve it in me, deeply, deeply.
Our hands still touch, but now our bodies merge.
My eyes glisten with wetness, looking up at you, as you thrust,
and I am forced to meet the intensity of them, making you roar,
making the music of the passion between us swell.
Passion has brought us together this night, and destiny will see,
if this fire in which we dance will not devour us whole.