He curls his fingers upwards
As I moan into his chest.
"Good girl" he says softly
As my eyes roll back,
His thumb brushing gently,
Applying pressure,
He watches me
With wild eyes,
My arching hips,
Drinking in my pleasure;
This man who loves me.
-
Author:
Kora (Pseudonym) (
Online) - Published: October 25th, 2025 00:51
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 1
Online)
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.