The Chase

Minding the supple curves
Of her damp body
Following restless hips
Bound for endless rhythm
Panties taunt and pulled
Hard between the dripping pink folds
Pressed deeper by your need
Feel the rock and sway of skill
The arch and pause of craving
The breathless “Pl ea se…”
She whispers into your lips
Only the topper to the day’s laundry
Is stretched between your bodies
And her heat swiftly melts them away
Strong fingers tuck hastily between
Supple skin and that naughty bit of lace
Not even off just far enough away
One hip roll and gasp of air…she is taken
And through her panting defeat
She mumbles just two words…

“Game…On…”