Soft
The ripest peach couldn’t taste as sweet as his lips,
Softly I cried out as he grabbed my hips,
He ran his fingers through my hair,
As I straddle him in the chair.
His fingertips danced against my skin,
He rocked me in and out, out and in.
He gently kissed me as he touched my spine,
Our love making is soft and divine.
Our touches make each other want to explode,
Passions so great the sheets I hold.
I call out his name,
He does the same.
Skin to skin,
Dark to white.
Hard to soft
Ripe and tight
Gentle to Rough
I couldn’t get enough