Purr...

A woman was made for
making lil noises while being
stroked so soft and gently,
and tasted and moved;
and moving - flowing seamless,
faultless - pressing,
easing, rising, sinking,
taking - giving.

Her skin was made to flush
with peach's blush as the rush
and roar of the blood within
swells and sounds beneath
fingertips soft
exploring deep
and sure and certain...
then more.

Her breathing is meant to be
interrupted then deep...
then short and gasping
as she floats and falls and rises
and falls past scudding clouds -
rises on thermals swift
to fall again... then float
as thunderheads resound within
her head - her heart - her center.

She is meant to be bathed
in the heat grown from within...
to glisten and gleam
as only she can
when fully complete and whole -
once again.

With her lover nestled
so close,
so soft -
the only sound,
her purr...
echoes.