Hands
Yes, but then again, no.
All the right parts are there.
(At least) two women, embracing.
Lipstick lesbians with long flowing manes.
Hands on breasts; right where they should be...
Hands on the counter, perfectly positioned for...
Feet apart, just enough leverage to receive impact from...
But the negatives speaks louder than the black and white.
Hands on breasts, too perfectly aligned. Placed for camera eyes.
Hands on kitchen counter girl: she just wants to go home.
Two straight girls, posing for a shoot after a long day.
The color is gone because they've no more to give.
Nothing about them says they want to be here.
Makes me not want to be here, too.
The right parts are all wrong.
And again.
No.
Forget the image.
Lend me your mind.
Think of my thighs.
Aligned with your eyes.
Raise your hands higher.
Press me to the floor.
Submit to my desire.
Give fully into yours.
Your craving is where?
Long to taste me there.
Move aside my panties.
Being to prepare.
Squeeze my hands. Grip me.
Breasts arrested. Glistening.
Your linguistic muscle. Reciting.
My hips arch, reacting.
The eros you speak is fluent.
My sacred space and flower, your student.
Now bathe me in your saliva:
I command you.
Twirl your tastebuds, flick my pearl.
Taste my dew.
Grasp for breath.
Pre euphoria.
I'm your girl.
I want more of you.
No more rhyme.
No more reason.
Buck my hips.
Feel your chin.
I cannot think.
Your tongue's caress.
Lost my name.
My hands are flustered.
Where am I?
The room is spinning.
I'm not dizzy.
I squint to see you.
Who am I?
You are grinning.
Touch me a touch.
My whole body arises.
So sensitive, you giggle.
How you love to watch me wiggle.
I'm coming down.
I know my name.
Blissful pleasure.
I've been tamed.