Your hands are my delight. I watch them constantly, how they type your gift of words, how they stir sugar and cream into coffee, how they grip, talk and weave. I hunger for them on my skin. To whisper soft adoration along my cheekbone, to decidedly grasp my waist as you pull me to you, to elicit passion within me as you paint my lips with your fingertips, drawing eruption of laughter as they dance on my rib cage. The feel of your fingers as they weave into mine as we walk together this path of life, a gift, both precious and divine.
My tongue reaches for your smooth damp skin, a taste to delight my senses. My hands upon your bare body in this moist heat erupts fire within my all. You reach for me not just with your body but with your whole soul. I feel this as my body bursts in passionate fire cascading within and without. Beloved, meet my mouth, my lips, my tongue that we can fervently discuss desire.