Your hot hands move with strength from heel
through your thumbs up my thighs,
your thumbs slip close to my chilled sweetness
fingertips catching a few times on my labia.
Are you dipping into my honey on purpose or
is it like coloring outside the lines from aggression?
My widening legs are the invitation you take
and minutes later I’m gasping while you fill me
your hands slipping on my forearms as you’re climbing up,
slipping like you’re slipping inside like the sound of waves
against sand: louder, faster than you expect.