Touching you, I ask, is that ticklish,
does it hurt? Do you like me
Rubbing your back like this?
Do you like me to stroke? or should I push harder,
Dig my knuckles in like this, force the knots in
you shoulders away, should I carry away
your Tension,
Lift the nervousness off your skin,
Breathe away your frustrations.
Let me touch you,
Run my hands over your neck, lightly,
over your face, eyes, around your lips,
on your hairline, until your skin begins
to feel a thrill,
Then I’ll change to rubbing your hands,
Squeezing each finger, massaging your palms,
Does it feel like your hands are just hands,
When I do that?
And now and again my lips will brush your skin
As I can’t resist kissing you;
but I continue, moving to your feet,
tickling first, then stroking,
rubbing and pulling until you feel like
you’ve never walked on them,
then encircling your ankles in my hands,
I pull your legs, stretching them,
and feel your strong calves,
lovely knees, and spend some time
focusing on the tender skin behind your knee;
and I tell you to lie on your back,
so I can rub and squeeze your thighs, the
strong muscles in the front of your legs;
With featherlight fingertips I tickle
the skin of your legs, and with a lover’s
brush gently caress the curves of your stomach,
slowly circling each breast with my face,
taking care not to tickle too much;
The beauty of your your body
overwhelms me, as I sink my face into the
soft downy skin of your breasts.
But I am not done; I trace a fine line
Slowly along your side, from thigh to arm
with my tongue, almost not touching you,
and keep going out along your lithe arm,
to your fingertips, then back along and up
your neck, so I can flick your earlobe,
whisper in your ear, and send shivers
down your spine.
Do you like it when I do that,
Will you return my touch?
~brightsilentthought
