"Whispers in the Garden"

Beneath the sun’s soft amber glow,
She sits, legs stretched, slow as time flows.
Her frock flutters, teasing the air,
A silent invitation, unaware—yet aware.

Across the garden, just a breath away,
He watches her like a hunter, at play.
Through the slight gap, where fabric parts,
He catches a glimpse that quickens hearts.

Her thighs, pale like the moon’s soft light,
Draw his gaze, pulling him into the night.
The delicate lace, barely hidden beneath,
Reveals the edges of a secret wreath.

A breath of wind, subtle and shy,
Carries a scent that makes him sigh.
Aroused and hardened, his pulse begins to race,
As he imagines her body's hidden grace.

She knows he watches, the heat of his stare,
His eyes tracing the line of her thighs laid bare.
And with every shift, every movement slight,
She gives him glimpses, igniting the night.

She spreads her legs just so, slow and neat,
Offering a view, a quiet treat.
Her panties thin, like a veil drawn tight,
The curve of her form slipping into the light.

He aches to touch, but holds his place,
Lost in the beauty of her sensual grace.
The breeze, like whispers, carries her scent,
An offering, a message, a moment spent.

She feels his desire, it dances near,
She revels in it, her mind clear.
A sly smile plays on her lips, just a trace,
As she shifts, revealing the heart of her lace.

His breath catches, eyes wide with need,
The space between them thick with greed.
And as the sun sinks low in the sky,
They imagine, together, as the world passes by.