A spark runs through the tip in a purple lightening vine;
Writing stories with his lips as he traces down her spine;
A jolt brings her back afloat as his hand is laced with hair;
His brother grips her throat, handcuffing warm air;
The fastening confinement, unwraps her trepidation;
But with his hands resignment, begs for more with desperation.
- 
                        Author:    
     
	courtneycooper (
 Offline) - Published: September 1st, 2021 04:31
 - Category: Erotic
 - Views: 18
 

 Offline)
			
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.