Innocent Erotic
folder
Poetry › Free Verse
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,222
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Poetry › Free Verse
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,222
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of poetry. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Innocent Erotic
Sitting intertwined on a bench.
Who knows what eyes may watch.
A hand on thigh, a hand on hand.
No people could see. Not me.
Arm on shoulder, hands on neck.
Trace a tentative path down.
So they or I care? Watching, wanting…
Her hand on mine.
Far enough, the path diverges, loopes back on itself.
No more sight seeing for today!
Wind in a whispery roar, carries seduction from lip to lobe.
Just us, head on lap, fingers linked, that’s all that matters.
Ass on lap, press denim to cock. Dull pulses of blood become sharp with the settling of her weight.
A shift, a squirm, a friction.
Hands high on thighs, closing to meet where it all ends and begins.
Again, hand on hand.
Light dims, inhibitions bend under the weight of lust, as a cock might, under denim, under ass.
Hands travel over plains, hesitate before the apex and cease.
Tongues kiss and dance, filling dark space with squishy music.
Who knows what eyes may watch.
A hand on thigh, a hand on hand.
No people could see. Not me.
Arm on shoulder, hands on neck.
Trace a tentative path down.
So they or I care? Watching, wanting…
Her hand on mine.
Far enough, the path diverges, loopes back on itself.
No more sight seeing for today!
Wind in a whispery roar, carries seduction from lip to lobe.
Just us, head on lap, fingers linked, that’s all that matters.
Ass on lap, press denim to cock. Dull pulses of blood become sharp with the settling of her weight.
A shift, a squirm, a friction.
Hands high on thighs, closing to meet where it all ends and begins.
Again, hand on hand.
Light dims, inhibitions bend under the weight of lust, as a cock might, under denim, under ass.
Hands travel over plains, hesitate before the apex and cease.
Tongues kiss and dance, filling dark space with squishy music.