Hitting the G-spot

You beckon me with two come-hither fingers
Crooked for loving, over-lipping me,
Finding the itch that needs stroking,
Finding the fire that wants feeding.
You touch with such persistent delicacy,
And oh – x marks the spot!

I almost match you, stroke for stroke,
Counter rhythm crookedness, move in time
With my roughened, broken breathing.
Tell me this is what you’re needing!
I press with such gentle urgency,
And oh – x marks the spot!

Our bodies seem to arch from each other,
As if to free us from other sensations.
We touch nowhere else, except for kissing.
Tongues fight to hook under lips, mirroring
How we abandon to this intimacy,
And oh – x marks the spot!

So precisely entered, so mutually centred,
All the world has mysteriously melted.
Our over-heated bodies burning, shining,
Our love-urges ablaze, glowing –
Each to each, fingers on sex-strings, strumming
Springs of sheer femininity flowing,
I, you, we can’t prevent this coming!
And gee – we hit the spot!