Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends writing

blood and sense a torrent

it happens somewhere in the moment

when you gently intrude your fingers
upon the back of his head

allowing them to wander his hair
stimulating willing skin

withholding all but your tongue’s tip
teasing him with glancing lips

your womanly softness
defined in that sacred place beneath the breast
pressed into the full length of him

that delicious instant you feel
the dam of his passions give way

all his blood and sense a torrent insisting
your thighs relent
to the poetry

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