Years of pining and not
a bristle or cone to show
for it. But that's how it
goes, timid in youth, late
in opportunity.
No denying I watch her
Waiting for the slightest
peak of flesh. Maybe
she won't notice me
notice the lace emerging
from the waistline of her
jeans. It's always sexier
the more she wears.
That is, until she wears
nothing.
A firm grip, right in my
palm and right at the base
of her bottom. Where leg
meets back. My favorite
curves of all her lovely
body. A grip of course
with my eyes, for although
there is much looking
there will almost certainly
be no touching.
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