His erotic hugs,
the intoxicating scent of my man,
is not less than drugs.
Our hands intertwined,
that desire to make love, shined.
His hands exploring my body,
the feeling is so intense,
we are both not in our sense.
My head on his chest listening to his heartbeat,
rhythmic it sounds so sweet.
Just wanna be in his arms forever,
for he is my ultimate pleasure.
YOU ARE READING
Pleasure
PoetryLove is born with the pleasure of looking at each other and fed with the necessity of seeing each other every waking hour of the day.
