Build up

I’m not usually this way,
I’m not always so forward,
But now I have you,
My willing captive,
Your breath comes rapid,
Desperate in your need,
Blind folded and bound,
Eagerly anticipating my next touch,
A slap? A caress? A grab?
What comes next?
Your breasts? Your throat?
Perhaps somewhere else,
I sit and watch,
Mezmerised and enthralled,
By your ribs and how they move,
As you pant with lust,
Our desire is equal,
The scent of your wetness,
The hardness of my manhood,
I grasp your delicate chin,
So small in my hand,
Your lips purse,
Expectanct,
Wanting,
Needing,
My free hand traces,
Curving and scrawling,
Down neck,
Collar,
Breast,
Navel,
To rest on your outer lips,
A moan of longing,
I lean in,
Lips brush lips,
Then glide across cheek,
Along jaw,
To ear,
‘Get dressed’ I whisper,
I free you of physical binds,
Only to leave you more trapped than before.