Denim Allure

It was wrong of her
to bend the way she did;
her hair fell forward -
a tumble of wispy strands
and I saw the swell of flesh
drawn in on denim
She parted her legs
to create a deep-blue vee
then dropped her head
to whisper: yes, you -
put your scent on me
I did as bade,
running my tightened skin
along the under-crease
Unwrap me, she said
Her voice deepened
I lay across her,
fumbling with stud and zip
Then she shimmied,
lifted her torso to slough
her casing
Now, she said, now