Come close to me
Feel my breathe on you
The heartbeat in my chest
Our fingers intertwined
My lips on yours
Feel the passion
My tongue parting your lips
More lust, more desire
Bite your lip a bit
Touch the small of your back
Move my lips to your neck
Make your feel helpless
Throw you down
Slide my hand ankle to thigh
Remove your shirt, your bra
Caress your breasts
My tongue explores your nipples
Slip off your pants, your panties
My hands explore every inch
Touch your breasts
Gentle strokes
Soft kisses
Fingers guided to warmth
Kiss your thighs
Feel the heat
My mouth invades
My mouth explores
My tongue penetrates
My tongue twirls
You moan, you twitch
My tongue moves faster
My mouth moves with you
Juices become thicker, taste sweeter
You shiver
You release
I pull you down to me
Kiss your lips
Smile
About the Creator
Keep reading
More stories from Jennifer Skinner and writers in Poets and other communities.
Red Shelves
Death is a black hole. Think about it. A black hole is the corpse of a star, something once warm and bright, now come to the end of its life cycle. But some will argue that the cycle of life does not end with death. That death is merely another path we must walk once our bodies expire and our souls ascend. In that moment, when the fuel in the star’s chemical tank hits empty and the shiny matte coat explodes into supernova, the mass left behind – the corpse – becomes a black hole. We understand that, around such a vast cadaver, dimensions work a little differently in death to the way we’re used to in life. For example, light cannot escape the pull of a black hole when it hits the point of no return. That’s where it gets its colour. Space itself is contorted by a black hole. That’s where it gets its funny shape. Even time. Time slows right down the closer you get to it. The closer you get to a black hole. The closer you get to death.
By Matthew Curtis3 days ago in Humans
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.