MIKA
Touch, calloused, smooth and tentative. Holding, no... almost groping, wanting to feel the warmth of your skin as I drunk the scent of your silence. No words can escape the thoughts of my lingering hands as I run my fingers across like moist kisses on abandon tracing the contours of your body with each fingers craving and longing.
To touch, to be held in comfort.
Photo courtesy of: Beam Consumido
No comments:
Post a Comment
EMAIL & NICK REQUIRED FOR YOUR COMMENTS TO BE POSTED.