- Erotic Poetry
- C is for Caress
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C is for Caress,
Lightly touched no less;
Flatness of the palm
Soothing like a balm.
Cold oil becomes heat
While hands gently meet
Soft shoulders and smooth skin
Lighting passion from deep within.
Creaking sounds the steady meter
On our bed that's made of cedar
As fingers find organ's keys
To notes so eager to please.
Crossing lower, along my back
'Tween the tickle and the crack,
The Rub can eye its salty prize
As it measures me for size.
Come what may, come what might
Beneath the calm and flickering light
Of stars above, all aglow
Who watch our quiet show.
Catch my breath as tips close
Beg to nibble the hefty dose
Of massage firm, full of life.
Please cement exquisite strife.
Can the words from mortal heads
Mirror delight from gentle beds
Given truly from love within.
"Now, it's your turn, my dear kin."
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