Like Fingering 47bc Poem by Terry Collett

Amica mea columba,
I whisper to Amy
as she prepares my bath.

Domitia has left us
after a long afternoon
of talk and gossip.

Marcus is off
on one of Caesar's
campaigns;
his love making
(as such as it is)
has ceased.

Amy is now
my bed mate,
my love,
my dove.

Puella,
Domitia had called
to Amy,
as if Amy were
her slave girl
and not mine.

Now she prepares me
for the bath;
undresses me,
undoing the sashes
and undoing me
in heart and mind.

Last night her fingers
slid into me,
aroused me
from deep slumber,
broke me in like
a wild stallion is tamed.

Last night
I kissed her breasts;
lips touched soft flesh,
mouthed teats
as an infant greedily.

I am naked now,
ready for my bathe.

Annona,
she whispers,
the water is done.

She stands
and watches me,
her hands nearby to aid;
her eyes feeding
on my body;
her tongue at the side
of her mouth,
lingering,
that too,
last night,
inside me,
like fingering.