20 May 2012

Hands



Just a last touch of a warm hand through my hair and You walk away.
I sit there while I finish my breakfast sipping coffee slowly.
The sadness runs within me even though my body is still
covered in Your touch like a warm blanket of memories.
You have taken me ever so carefully on a journey into a dark world.
I would never have known but for You, and all within Your gentle care.
My nipples burn against the fabric of my bra, erect and lovely painful.
Your little juicy fruit is still puffed up in my lace panties, gently reminding me
of what happened with every heartbeat. Your hands were there
constantly touching as tools of love, pain, care and reassurance.
You have taken what is Yours and used it at Your will 
as I have given it to You, freely, wantingly, lovingly.


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