This whispers; this feeling.

The aroma of cologne your palms leave behind,
On mine and,

when you fondly touch my cheeks.

 

The whispers at night,

that pierces through the flesh of my ears

And directly into my heart.

 

When your lips touches below my ears,

Your breath that leaves the warmth strolling down through my spine,

With your gilead hairs caressing my bare chest,

Raising my temperatures.

 

The force that results to the ticking of my clock,

to the urge of sexual pleasures.

The measured stupid pecks,

and kisses down through my abs,

and tummy, filling my testicles with warmth that boils the fluids it contains to the point of gushing out.

 

Makes me feel secure and owned.

 

Swahiba.

 

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