Fevered Mind

A poem by Sydney Stone. I do not own the image.

NSFW

***

A touch, too much,

You push me too far.

It was just, a crush,

Now we’re alone in your car.

You whisper, I blush,

Your touch starts, the rush,

As your lips brush, my neck,

And your fingers start, their trek,

Slowly up my thigh.

I clutch at, your wrist,

Prolonging, the tryst,

Of your digits slipping slowly within-

Velvet folds,

And I seek to hold,

Onto each crest of pleasure,

As kisses light as feathers,

Descend upon my breasts.

Oh the sweet ripple,

Of a tongue ‘pon a nipple,

Suckling, as your fingers piston within.

Just as I reach my edge,

You return to my ear to beg,

For my to cum to cover your palm.

Oh what a rush,

Born from but a crush,

In the front seat of your car.