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There

Your hand
That exquisite, sexy little hand
I reach, oh so slowly
My index finger extended lazily

But with enigmatic intent and subtle grace
(Like Michelangelo's Adam on the Sistine Chapel ceiling ...
Desperate for the touch of God)
I softly touch your thumb, and there is an electric shiver

Not static or reaction or even a spark
But rather the gentlest of vibrations of skin rubbing skin
The hairs on the back of your hand stand up
And I know, when you don't pull away

That you like what I'm doing ... that I can continue
I increase my pressure just slightly, and slide
Running my finger along the soft inside of your thumb
Up and over the tip, pausing playfully at your bright pink, shiny nail

Then down the inside slant to the fleshy notch there
I run my fingertip tenderly back-and-forth
(With a similar motion and intent that I hope to use in more secret places)
Then I push it slowly into the space below

And you turn over your hand, palm up
The ends of your fingers tremble and quiver
And I know you're anticipating me ...
Wondering what is next ...

I pause for a moment, to let your mind spin
Then I trace around the edges, up and over each finger
Down between the spaces, pressing on the warm skin that connects them
And when I reach the base of your pinky

I softly, slowly, tenderly, with the care of a first kiss
Work my fingertip to the sublime soft-center of your palm
First making tiny circles there
And then writing sexy words in cursive

Writing in love's language the things we'll soon be doing ... together
As a final touch, I withdraw my hand and put my finger gently in my mouth
When it's sufficiently moistened and shiny
I return it slowly to your palm

And make a final, sweet, small, sexy circle of wet ...
The period to the torrid tale I've written there
The story of what we'll soon be sharing
In soft, silky skin and sighs ...

And moonlight.





Submitted on May 1, 2020
To the "Strand No 740, Any Form, Any Theme" Poetry Contest
Brian Strand, Sponsor.
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