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By Galadrial Date: 2001 Sep 30 Comment on this Work [[2001.09.30.20.33.5831]] |
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Something about the word suggests satin and silk. whispers like hair falling from pins onto shoulders creamy enough to bite. Pleasures, oh rich, like fine velvet that will leave marks from the lightest finger touch. You pleasure me with looks that rain warm on my skin, color my cheeks, and turn me like potters clay in your hands, firm, they shape, caress the detail oh...they pinch softly, and make the final form that I will take. I pleasure you with soft sighs, breath in stiches, and a glow amber gold, honey gleaming and it is all we are, or have wished to be fingers joined. bodies close held, a personal beat between us, overlaid heart to heart in time. Pleasure me, my love, take, that I may give all that is mine yours now in this swirl or color this fragile skin, this healing vessel fueled by your love, fired by passion and emerging from the kiln as something rare, and priceless. |