Work Of Art

Would you blush if I told you that I want you -
-always wanted you-
that I have pressed your flesh
against the heaving warmth of my teenage loin
worked my tongue like a painters brush
into your heady musk?

Would you be ashamed
that I have caressed your ivory skin
laid with half closed eyes
your tender hands
dripping wet
stroking my engorged lips
curled my toes
writhing on your finger tips?

I would lay with you
cheek to cheek
breast to breast
paint your sweet essence on my nuzzled face
across my freckled nose
orchestrate the deepest groan
hold your body clinched
color you and watch
you become
my work of art.