Poem -

The Act

Wet lips 
Swollen  members
Nipples that ripple
Tongues that flicker
Hands that touch
Fingers that roam
Mounds to Motorboats 
 wild oats to sow
Bodies pressed together 
Bouncing up and down 
Or in a tantric pose
Buried noses 
In wet lushness
And smooth soft folds
Tongues path traces
Into sacred spaces
Breath catches
In Letting go
 in release Together 

First try at erotic