Love · Romance · Sexual

The temptress

The quiet of the house engulfed me,
Vast and watching as I removed my shoes,
Silent and waiting as I sighed,
Understanding and heavy as I smiled when I saw her shoes by the door,
The slow melodies of jazz whispered through the hallway,
Invisible hands stretching and pulling me forward,
My body warmed.
The outside shimmered away,
The present clung to me with promise,
The seconds swelling with desire,
She was home,
At last from her long travels that had robed me of her presence,
My heart raced.
Stopping at the bedroom door, I watched her,
Basking in the soft caresses of the Egyptian cotton,
Upper body resting on the fluffed pillows,
Head turned to the side a little,
Lashes lowered to give the illusion she was unaware of my presence,
Then she smiled.
Her naked body lay waiting,
Calling out to mine,
Soft chocolate curves that my hands had not woken with them around for a week,
She moved one leg up, her toe sliding on the inside of the other leg,
My eyes took in their fill as I disrobed,
She was home.
My temptress,
Wanton and proud,
Seduction and desire bound and ready for my taking,
She crooked a finger,
‘Welcome home darling,’ she crooned just a little louder than the music.


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