Jealous Lips

Lips and hands at odds.

Your fingertips trace the outline of my face
As if you are attempting to place its features in your memory
For all time.

You stroke my neck gently
Feeling the softness along its length
Except for the scratch of the hair under my chin.

They pinch one then the other
And both of my sensitive and distended nipples
As you hear the first moans of pleasure from my lips.

Your fingers trace the outline of my belly
To my waist, and grab hold of the throbbing member
Hidden in a black forest. Ecstasy.

Your hands grab hold of the
Two mounds of flesh beneath me and part them
As you begin a one manned exploration of land few have seen.

Further north
Your lips listen to the commotion caused by your fingertips
And enviously wonder, "why all the fuss?".

They never realize that one kiss from them
Would cause a commotion, a cry, a moan
That would rival and surpass any that your fingertips can illicit.

Taste and See.