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Click hereShy prelude,
impromptu
sweet suckle
of fingers
drawing a pianissimo of sighs.
Crescendo crash of tongues and lips
flesh melding
with each lower lip
captured, pleasured
pulling
measured moans.
We are
arching to octaves
taunt stuccato
against the rain's
tattered tempo.
Cupping breasts
I feel a
fluttering of timpanis
resonating 'neath your skin
so blue in streetlight shadow.
Basstone moan--
cambiata--
skillful fingers trilling
dominant chords.
Merciful morceau
cascading in cadence.
I wait for coda.