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deepundergroundpoetry.com
MAKING LOVE UNDER THE SHOWER
Under the shower we make love.
Its water cascades from above,
soaking our conjoined bodies' skins.
My calves are caressed by your shins.
Our bodies, soapily sliding,
meeting in the urgent riding
of your parted thighs on my own,
my hands under your rear your throne.
Hidden behind its drawn curtain
as we thrust to climax certain,
the water's pour muffles our moans
to slamming of our pelvic bones.
The shower's side screen steaming up
as if blushing to see us 'tup'
in such uninhibited way
under mutual desires' sway.
Our appetites undiminished,
we come - but we are not finished.
We dry each other, parts re-stir,
to take, in bedroom, things further.
Its water cascades from above,
soaking our conjoined bodies' skins.
My calves are caressed by your shins.
Our bodies, soapily sliding,
meeting in the urgent riding
of your parted thighs on my own,
my hands under your rear your throne.
Hidden behind its drawn curtain
as we thrust to climax certain,
the water's pour muffles our moans
to slamming of our pelvic bones.
The shower's side screen steaming up
as if blushing to see us 'tup'
in such uninhibited way
under mutual desires' sway.
Our appetites undiminished,
we come - but we are not finished.
We dry each other, parts re-stir,
to take, in bedroom, things further.
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