Voicemail Poem by Kewayne Wadley

I need to speak to you urgently.
Give me a call soon as you get this.
Here lately I can't think straight.
See I've been having these thoughts.
Thoughts of my hands traveling down your voluptuous thighs.
A sudden urgency that strikes as need.
Subtle movements that strike such curiosity.
I've known you for so long, but here lately it
seems to be all I think about.
For instance, The last time I saw you,
And you turned around and began to walk away.
I started to wonder just how right that ass would look without those jeans.
I started to pull you back and slide my hand down your jeans into your panties.
I imagine how wet that pussy would be between my fingers.
How it would feel.
My hand between your panty line as you let out a deep sigh.
My fingers sliding between your lips rubbing that clit before slipping inside.
The irrate way your hand would search the back of my head trying to gain composure.
Would your hand search for my print.
Trying desperately to undo my zipper and jack me off.
These thoughts lead to you on your knees trying to fit me whole in your mouth.
That's just the tip of thoughts that cross my mind whenever I see that ass
switch left, then right.
Now I know this isn't the most normal of voicemails
or the least bit of urgent.
But give me a call as soon as you get this