Fingertips Poem by clay perry

there is no satiating
my hands
when they are hungry
when they need to devour
your skin

my eager fingers
seek out that delicious
curve from your hips
to your back
where I can stay
for hours

my soft hands
brushing past your
wild hair, for a second
holding firm, pulling
your head slightly back
and your moistened lips part
slowly, releasing
you feel me glide
over your neck

when you are swallowed
in my embrace
I can feel you on
either side. and we
move in concert
my hands ever traveling
over the decadence of
your flesh

hands that travel over
your stomach where
my desire grows as
fingers glide past your ribs
and when I cup
the weight of your
breasts in my hands
and your nipples dance on my
fingertips, I feel your breath
grow deep inside
gasping in anticipation

when my fingertips
tug so gently but firmly
on the aching hardening flesh
I close my eyes
and feel your moan begin
and your hips sway

but my hands have not
yet been met by your full
passion and they seek it
with heated determination

my fingers slide down
over your full breasts,
down your heaving ribs
caressing your glorious hips
and move across your
body to find you hungrily
awaiting my touch.