"the Fab Five"
Four fingers and my thumb rest on your thigh,
Positioned around the bend of your knee,
Moving just as far as the eye can see,
Because your skirt hides the ultimate high.
Four fingers and my thumb creep like a spy,
Making circles as you react with glee,
Moving under the fabric meant to be
The boundary that I should not pass by.
Up your thigh with my thumb and four fingers,
Causing your inhibitions to go numb,
I firmly position my five clingers,
As they marvel at how far they have come.
Your breath leaves as the sensation lingers,
While four fingers wait outside for my thumb.
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