His touches, touch me

The one I call my lover places his working hands onto me and caresses the lining of my body turning the mood from playful to naughty. 

My skin shudders as I feel his perfectly molded body pressing against me. 

Whispers flow off his lips as his tongue confesses what my hearts longed for.
Sweet words of a lovers passionate soul dances within my thoughts; leaves me wanting more. 

Sounds of his moist breath against my ear executes a moment of sweet truth as our unclothed bodies unfold.   

Taking me to such a level writes our map of memories, for together, within one another, our worlds unit and together we mold.

His touch takes my breath as he begins pressing and stretching his hands amongst my lower back, lined with tattoos.

Moving hands texture me in ways words do not match by definition, for my body fumes out in unique moans, assuring him to continue.

Powerful is his lustful surprise as he distinctively pleasures me as though my petite structure were his own.

Love provides a means to make love as he relinquishes himself to please me and his wanting of me is well known.