He stares at his
hair-wrapped fist
in the moonlight
or the city light.
Gentle movements
with hints of more.
Little help?
Grudgingly released locks
fall back to perfection.
She turns.
He unzips.
Slowly.
She moves.
It falls.
His eyes follow.
She steps out
of the shadow
and dress.
Ambient spot light
on four inch heels.
Black.
I look so pale.
ignored as eyes travel.
Up.
Up.
Black underwear.
Bites his lip.
A little.
She notices
looking back over her shoulder.
And likes.
A lot.
Up.
Up.
Black bra.
Lace.
He steps
forward.
And again.
She starts to,
but
a hand falls on her hip.
Other one brushes hair aside.
Lips on back of her shoulders.
Kisses.
Down.
Leaving a trail
of goose bumps
in their wake.
He kneels.
Hands on both hips.
Spins her around.
Lips on stomach now.
She stares at her
hair-tangled fists
in the moonlight
or the city light.
Sexy!
I like how the short lines give a sense of urgency. Sexy!
Love a girl in lace…
hot.
Damn!
Oh Peter…
The song this subject line comes from killllllllllllllls me. So does this poem.
yum.
Um Peter… that was hot.
so very sexy
i need a cold shower. or a booty call.
Hot Sexy Love it!!
Ummm. That didn’t really help the drought I’ve been experiencing. Now no one on the street is safe from my impending assault.
Oh my. If I were wearing pearls, I’d clutch them.
Sweet Jesus.
Inspiration is the last thing you need. (Also? Lindsay and I are in the same boat. The public should be warned).
Don’t make me verbally moan. Haha.
Goose bumps…. ;)
Awwww…thinking about me again, huh? :)
Love love love. :)
you can’t wear black lace under a yellow dress, peter…