The Maestro

His fingers play my flesh like ivory keys,
his touch unleashing tones both deep and lush.
Beneath my skin it builds with intensity,
spreading through muscle, vein, bone, and blood,
as his palms press against my breasts and hips.
His lips at my ear, a whispered command,
begin a separate discordant rhythm
that sets my mind to spinning, balance and
sense of horizon gone, I close my eyes,
floating in the negative space his touch creates,
the pause between notes, where the song resides,
and his symphony builds as the strains fluctuate.

Under my clothes, you will find his melody
tattooed on the softest parts of me.

This week’s Masturbation Monday prompt was a lovely photo from sub-Bee. The original was posted as “Name that Tune” on her blog A to sub-Bee.

I’m not sure why I went for a sonnet tonight, but it felt right, and I’m not about to fight my muse on matters such as these.


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