curvaceous
my fingertips
touch ...
tender, but with melodic intent
you tremble
just SO ...
and sigh sweetly
the delightful answer
to my questioning hands
a gentle press ...
your supple curves against me
fitting me like dovetail
your quivers ...
soft-thrumming my flesh
matching your moans
the hushing pulse of your body
urges me on ...
your swan-like neck
satin beneath my hot palm
as it moves lower
pressing ...
deft digits dancing across you
like a wild Spaniard
we are ... one
our purpose, the same
oh, sing to me now
let my passion be your cry
let our lullabies of love and desire
move souls ...
and ache hearts
my beloved ...
guitar.
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