Erotic Lynx

The Hand

A touch. Light. Firm. Anything you desire.

A stroke with a wave, a caress, or a slap. Just what you like.

My palm maneuvers the feathery lightness of your chest, bringing my fingertips to prick your nipples.

Moving down. Down. To the top of the hardened spike, hot and dripping.

What should I do now? Grab? Yank? Gently rub?

What I long to do is not up to me, it’s what my hand craves that drives it to thrust. Hard.

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