THE TOWELLING ROBE

Out of the shower I jumped bare,  
Dried myself around and down there,  
To the bedroom I went to wait,  
On the bed, naked, for my mate.  
The babe sure likes to take her time;  
I hear her sing vaguely in rhyme.  

While the water cascades on her,  
My mind's eye brings on heart murmur,  
Imagining her naked shape,  
Standing in there, feet to her nape.  
After a time the water ceased  
Its falling sounds, heard plug released.  
 
All goes quiet, and she comes out  
To dry herself. My rod goes stout.  
To bedroom's door I hear her stride,  
Anticipation stirs inside  
Of me seeing her in the raw  
Once she comes round the bedroom door.  
 
Come in she did, but the skin bare  
Was shaded by robe she did wear.  
Easy upon her frame it sat,  
She slipped her slippers on the mat.  
She said, "You men are too ready,  
You're too eager to get beddy!"  
 
"Just take some time to notice me  
Before I show my whole body."  
I took the hint, to range my eyes  
On my red robed bare skinned surprise.  
From her toes up, to the robe's hem,  
I scanned her legs, made eyes at them,  
 
Then took in her robed silhouette,  
That she'd not long before got wet.  
Under the belt her hips, outlined,  
Shifted up as her ankles twined.  
The hair on her head was slicked back,  
Tailing behind, water shined black.  
 
Below her neck a bare skinned V  
Showed of her chest, stopping where the  
Robe's front crossed below her breasts  
(Free of the bra that forms their nests)  
Which are hanging on her chest free,  
I note from the cleavage valley.  
 
When I have eyed over her form,  
The fire of lust she starts to warm.  
She forward steps, and draws apart  
The robe's front, baring her haired part.  
Then off her shoulders down robe slips,  
Unveiling her arms, breasts and hips.  
 
She lets it pool around her feet,
Her naked glory is complete.
From that red pool she steps gently,
Crooks arms behind her head at me,
Flicking on her shoulders her mane,
Setting the passion fire in train.
 
We face each other naked now,  
My manhood's stiff hard, like a bough  
As it projects like an oak tree,  
As she walks on the rug to me.  
Onto the bed my hands draw her  
While her bathrobe stays on the floor.