SLOW HANDS

Slow hands are caressing the curves of my naked body;  
hers alone, I don't take touch from just anybody.  
She'll give them like this in return for a bit more money.  
'Slow Hands, slow hands..... '

When I crave for a bit of dedicated massage,  
I go to her place, it's at the end of a passage.  
I make my request to her in enigmatic language.  
'Slow Hands, slow hands....'  
 
She knows all the ways her hands can be applied to please me,  
gentle, rhythmic, strategical, persistent and squeezy.  
From stress, aches, uptightness there's release that leaves me dreamy.  
Slow Hands, slow hands...……  
 
On her table I'm laid, vulnerably like a baby  
on my chest and stomach before the standing pretty lady  
I call 'Slow Hands' but she also answers to 'Gaby'.  
'Slow Hands,  slow hands...…. '
 
She starts on my neck, goes down to  shoulders and arms,  
rubs my muscles, while I take in scent of candle that calms,  
my back, thighs, calves, feet and butt get the treatment from her palms.  
'Slow Hands, slow hands..... '
 
There are times when it's got me sexually excited,  
and craving for her body with mine to be united,  
ending in her thighs upon mine astride sited.  
'Slow Hands, Slow Hands...... '
 
And so, in skin to skin table top action
I let her deeply know my satisfaction,
deeper than than mere animal attraction.
Slow Hands slows hands.