Our hands clasp as we paint pictures with our eyes;
painting each other without any clothes before I pulled her shirt off (with her consent), but I didn’t have my permission as my hands traveled the length of her sides to her jeans, unbuckling her belt, pulling down her skinny jeans.
My breathing has become too loud.
Her breathing becomes faint pants.
My lips & fingers travel below her belly button ring, tasting salt and Polo.
My lips touch her a jewel;
She clasps my hands tight.
I lick here and there.
She clasps my hands tighter.
Don’t stop! she says.
The rise and fall of her chest quickens, and I massage her thighs, still tasting what I should be waiting until marriage to taste.
But right now, it felt so natural to hear her breaths turn to moans.
Drink Coffee Write 