with the colour
of your flesh.
Rosy but
not quite white.
Looking intellectual, though
tending to be hot.
It's shimmering gold
under the sun,
pushing me
to wish badly touching,
in more ways than one.
To lick you sweating,
to sense how it tastes.
You are blushing
even on your neck,
near the breastsline,
You are blushing
every time my lust
makes you excited.
I dream these fingers
of your little moving hand-
trying to avoid the heat-
I dream them tapping,
playing with my erected senses.
