She Waits

A slug of amber liquid.
Warm hands are searching her,
stroking and enticing.
"Not yet" he says.  

Expectations are now tangible;
Straps slowly are releasing,
Exposing her fagility.
"Not yet" he says.  

Hot breath like sun on skin,
and fingers dance a ballet.
His tongue beats out a rhythm.
"Not yet" he says.  

Her back arched like a bow,  
hair grabbed like life support;
She tries to pull him upwards.
"Not yet" he says.  

All thoughts lost to oblivion,
frustration leads the way,
She's begging him for mercy.
"Not yet" he says.  

And then...