I

Image by Josep Ma. Rosell via Flickr

I reach across the table to touch your hand.

Fine hands, long slender fingers, pale pink and soft…

so soft…

I long to feel your hand silently caress my cheek.

I hunger for the softness that hides a secret sexuality.

You are secret.

You keep yourself refined to a pitch.

I want to know that pitch; can your hands take me there?

I want to know every part of you, I know there is more

hidden softness.

Softness between the folds of your plump round breasts.

Softness of the skin between your legs and buttocks.

I look into your soft brown eyes and see your hunger.

Are you just too soft for me to go deeper?

The agony I feel…

The frustration of intense longing.

Let me in, please. The velvet softness of your hands

makes me insane for you.

I will go mad for the softness,

You take your hands back and fold them.

You are wise to your treasure and making me wait

increases the excitement.

The pleasure I will someday feel inside you.