Is it really any surprise

What is it I want?

I want to feel

Fingertips runnning through my hair
Knuckles brushing my cheek
Hot breath on my collarbone
As your stubble grazes my neck
To have the palm of your hand
Curled around my exposed breast
The material of your cotton shirt
Tickling my stiffening nipple
Have you trace the outline
Of a spirograph,
upon my back
Smother my skin with scented oil
And glide against me
Making our skin slick with sweat
Until we need that shower
Until skin bubbles and froths
Like lava from passionate fissures
And cleans away all doubts
I want the angle of your body
To press against mine
Your lips to hush my words
As I submit
To the force of you
Feel you fully
Inside entwinned limbs
Under furrowed brow
Interspersed with bites
And involuntary sounds
Delights of emotion
Skin slapping skin
Thrashing in frustration
Against the tide of desire
To have you thrust
where I want you most
The shudder, the squeal,
squirming denial
To smile
And see yours
Soften and melt
Purring into my ear

To feel you

This is what I want

Yet instead, I shrug
And ask you to surprise me



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