Almost

I can almost feel you,
Your long, blunt-tipped fingers —
Nails neatly trimmed and clean —
Sliding with a slow and teasing pace
Between the folds,
Playing the little instrument
That pokes her head out from
Beneath her hood.

I can almost feel you,
Your warm, hungry tongue —
Wet and heavy with desire —
Tickling the nerves that live
Between the folds,
Laving the little dancer
That stretches her neck out from
Beneath her hood.

I can almost feel you,
Your hard, hot hands —
Strong and steadily dominant —
Holding my hips firmly, lips
Suckling the little firecracker
Between the folds,
Raising the little rocket
That launches herself up
Beneath her hood.

I can almost feel you,
Your slow, harsh breaths —
Deep, out of all control —
Stuttering, and stoking the explosion
Between the folds
Soaring, gasping, burning up
Beneath her hood.

Copyright 2014