Love in the Language of Touch #MasturbationMonday

 

My Hand

 

Adore you

So much

That sometimes my hesitant touch

Is barely enough for you to register.

As I hold my breath for the gorgeousness of you.

Each moan, each returned caress grounds me, arouses me, empowers me to be more bold.

To trace patterns on your skin, fleetingly soft,

As sweet as unsteady, as light as my heart in your presence.

Want you

so deeply, so viscerally, so essentially.

When you press into my embrace,

when you arch up towards me,

when you offer me your flesh.

What else can I do but kiss and nibble, scritch, scratch and dig my nails in deep.

To leave hot impressions of my desire for you.

Needing to sink my touches deep

so you feel them

seep into your soul.

Love you.

Every beautiful inch of you, body and brains included.

The laughs, the smiles, the sometimes silly asides.

The intensity of looks, of purposeful touch, that rocks every fibre

And leaves nothing but a mantra of loving exclamations where thought should be.

Does it translate via fingertips and kiss plumped lips into something only you can understand?

Adore you

Want you

Love you.

Let me show you.

H’s hand