Spring time between ya hips

I wrote this poem from a guys point of view…..

I wake up to rays from the sun but know nothing feels as warm as the heat that radiates from your perfectly shaped posterior. Your body smells like honeysuckle kissed over by a slight rain as I watch the perspiration from our earlier playtime leaves it’s reminiscing effects over your skin.

You stretch your body and I can feel your toes curl and lightly tickle the tops of my feet as I spoon into you like my favorite treat of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream flavor Cookie Dough.

Your hair is as soft as a web of silk made by the finest of spiders….Black Widow I hope you are not. You turn in my arms and I look into your eyes that are the color of mother earth, that rich soil that just begs to be implanted with the richest of MY roots. So who am I to turn down your request to water your seeds?

For it is springtime between your hips and I am always at home between your thighs.

Originally published at sinsualpleasures.blogspot.com on May 15, 2009.

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