Tender young and supple muscle,
Writhing in and out of sight,
Holding you would be amazing,
Intimacy would be so right.
Fallen to the will of flesh,
Being held is what I’m craving,
Someone warm and lithe and restless,
Perfect heat for our misbehaving.
Here is wanting for the apple,
To stroke nirvana is what I race,
Unbuttoning straining of kept fabrics,
Would keep this smile upon my face.
Beauty wove its’ kind of magic,
To feed my eyes and searching hands,
You have proved a rare temptation,One that enjoying you, understands…