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I took his hand and led him to his bedroom,
with a stride filled with the confidence of a ballroom
dancer, leading my partner to the dance floor we danced,
a dance of passion, he could tell it was him I adored.
He stood there beautiful, his dark brown hair spreading curls
across his face, a deep intimate feeling, I would not want
to be any other place.
His early control of my wandering hands,
like a parent pulling back their toddler from places
they weren't meant to roam.
He soon relented from exhaustion, leaving my
hands to make their own discovery, the way he made me feel
hit home in every way.
I gently stroked his arms, my
hands slowly moving towards his chest,
my fingers searching snake like, slithering down
exploring his hips, my other hand found his .....
his body twisted, a momentary hesitation awaits the time
when we meet at our final destination.
I wrapped him in my arms, reassuring him that everything
is fine. There was no doubts an internal battle
was being fought, on pleasurable grounds of decency and
curiosity, we stood in the moment, no apology.
Like a lost animal unable to find his way back to his herd,
or stop the force that drove him forward, the smell of pleasure in the
distance, the lure of what was buliding inside, a new found pleasure
far greater than his control, convincing him to see this through
and he did eventually on that late
windy afternoon and others after.
