Poetry By Porcelain Prince

Fingertips

Fingertips touching your skin.
With every touch my head will spin.

Gentle at first.
Then rather rough.
Your love will always be enough.

Hands sliding down further.
The tender touch becomes firmer.

Soft moans become quite loud.
Every touch is allowed.

Hands gliding down my chest.
Your moans are the best.

With every touch you moan more.
I could stay like this forevermore.