- Erotic Poetry
- How they worship at your feet.
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Oh how they worship at your feet.
Their eyes glued to your form as you glide across the stage.
You move with grace to the tempo of the exotic music, every pirouette, every sashay in perfect harmony.
Your muscles flex as you bend and twist your body, performing their own separate erotic dance.
The beads of sweat that run down the furrows of your curves like tiny diamonds sparkling in the stage lights.
You have everyone captivated, entranced by your beauty.
Oh how they worship at your feet as you tease them, removing each tiny scrap of material that hides the most intimate parts of you which they are all so desperate to touch.
You sway like a willow branch in the breeze, always just out of reach.
Oh how they worship at your feet, desperately hoping the money in their hands will lead you to them. A smile, a gesture, anything to gain your favour.
Oh how they worship at your feet, for the duration of the song that keeps you in their midst for their eyes to feast upon but never for their hands to touch.
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