rolling and falling from the comb
onto your fevered bare body,
taking the time to taste,
lick from lip to lip.
The air is thick around us,
humid breezes and fireflies
take over the summer sunset,
dusk glows and sears us from within.
Slow lovin’ is its own patient dance,
a lens capturing every detail,
lazy tangles of lips and limbs,
searching the sensitive textures,
from bud to hardening bud.
Petals glide along me now,
like warm honey coats each inch
to tease me with the sweetness
trickling between delicate little folds.
And the slightest move is heat,
the summer concentrated into beings,
its glows remaining in us
as we succumb to this pull.
Slow lovin’ is like a beat I can play
measure by measure with you,
memorizing your hips when
you reach below for me,
fingers curl and squeeze,
grinning as you glide them
up and down a quivering shaft.
From root to swollen tip,
the salt and sweet of flesh
moving against and into you,
the air is thick around us,
mingled breath and your scent
sail into my lungs to cling
even tighter to our slow grind
As the summer night darkens around us,
humid breezes through the quiet streets,
fireflies sparking like tiny amber stars,
and the slightest movement is heat
thrusting into dripping, rich depths.
Slow lovin’ like warm honey drizzling
onto your fevered bare body,
covering you like the way your legs
encircle and lock around my back,
and the slightest movement brings us closer,
succumbing to the concentrated explosions,
the thunder waiting to bellow through our tangled limbs.
