is it wrong for me to live for the way your skin feels beneath my hands, the way your pulse races underneath my lips, the way the blood flows faster in your veins and rises to the surface of your skin turning you into a furnace.|
is it wrong of me to live for the way your thighs fall helplessly aside from the slightest insistence of my knee, the way your body arches as i trace your inner thigh with my palms, the way the lips between your legs swell and moisten when i merely insert the tip of a finger inside you and.... tease
is it wrong for me to live for the way you sob your frustrations at the need for friction, the way you moan your immense delight at the first feel of my tongue on your excruciatingly hard nipple, the way you stutter out your cries of passion as i set a rhythm with my hands and mouth that sends you spiraling towards a release you cry for and run from all at the same time
is it wrong for me to live for the way your body tenses and arcs like a bow about to loose an arrow as you reach your peak, the way your eyes glaze and loose focus as i send you over that edge with the rubbing of my thumb and the pressure of my fingers inside you, the way you shudder and shake beneath me as you softly cry from the tensions sudden release, like a survivor of the most beautiful abuse ever created
is it wrong for me to live for the taste of your sweat as it rolls down the length of your body, the way your other lips taste of olives and dark warm places begging to be explored, the way you weakly try to close your legs to escape the pleasure too intense for your already exhausted system
is it wrong for me to live for the way you lay limp , hips cradled in my arms as you beg softly for me to stop, and then for me not to as you glimpse the radiant light approaching you, calling you to the edge of pleasure's precipice once more
is it wrong for me to live for the way you feel cradled in my arms, tremors coursing through your body even as you drift off into a deep sleep, like the aftermath of an earthquake, the sweetest post traumatic stress you could ever ask for
is it wrong for me to live for the way you look as you sleep like an angel caught in my arms.......