Tender Love

His hands move with deliberate grace, Tracing the curves of her body's map, A journey written in breath and space.

Fingers glide like whispers on silk, Slowly caressing, tender and warm, The rhythm of touch like a lover's song, Unraveling tension, calm from storm.

Her skin awakens under his hands, Every inch a delicate sigh, He kneads her back, her shoulders soft, And listens to the rise of her quiet reply.

His touch lingers, careful and slow, On every curve she so freely gives, He explores with reverence, soft as the wind, In the tender place where passion lives.

Her heartbeats quicken, her breath a hum, As his hands find rhythm, a sensual art, He moves with purpose, gentle but firm, A master of knowing her every part.

With each slow caress, she rises higher, A wave of warmth, a quiet flame, Until she surrenders, lost in the moment, Whispering softly, calling his name.

In the stillness after, they breathe as one, Bodies entwined, hearts aligned, Their connection deep, beyond just the skin,

A love both tender and kind.