love sex poem death


She is asleep. He cannot sleep. He doesn’t know if he ate too much or it is some other factor. He looks at her flower embroidered panties lying on the floor. Carelessly discarded. But she is a tidy person. Organised. He had slipped her panties off and carelessly discarded them. Pushed her back onto the bed and began massaging her clitoris with his thumb. Then fingers. Became intoxicated by her love sex moans and buried his face between her thighs. Tongue lapping at her pussy. She smelt great. He loved the taste of her genitalia. He loved stealing glances at her. He loved her but never told her. She had been asleep for quarter of an hour. He wasn’t tired. He felt horny. He wanted to pull back the sheet and look at her breasts. Look at the curve of her spine. He could look at her and get a hard on. Her nudity a sexual catalyst. It seemed it didn’t matter how many times he had seen her body. It didn’t matter how many times they had committed the same act. And now he wanted to kiss her. He loved kissing her. Loved talking to her. Now she was breathing deeply. She was sound asleep. He pulled back the sheets. She was beautiful. He absorbed. He leant forward and kissed her hip. She was oblivious.


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