Morning Secrets

Each dawn, she wakes with a restless need,
An ache that only touch can feed.
Beneath soft sheets, her fingers slide,
Following thoughts she cannot hide.

Eyes closed, she lets her fantasies bloom,
In the quiet glow of her shadowed room.
She teases herself, slow and deep,
Savoring each soft, sweet sweep.

Her mind drifts to a lover’s kiss,
A warm, imagined mouth she can’t resist.
She feels his breath, the soft, wet press,
Tracing patterns that make her confess.

Her fingers glide, parting her lace,
Finding the pulse, the secret place.
With each slow circle, her body sways,
Lost in the rhythm her touch obeys.

She lingers, drawing out each beat,
Imagining lips, so soft and sweet.
A moan escapes, she bites her lip,
Her fingers slip, a tighter grip.

As morning light begins to rise,
She reaches that place, where pleasure lies.
Her breaths come quick, her body sings,
Lost in the thrill her touch brings.

Each dawn, alone, her secrets spill,
A morning ritual, a quiet thrill.
And as she trembles, quiet and slow,
She smiles, sated, in the glow.