Monday moaning .... Moment ... Prose poem...

Hands,

Softer then newborn baby skin,

Trail over the contours of my back

Warm breath,

Softly exhale on the nape of my neck,

While roaming hands,

Unbuckle my belt,

Unzip my pants

Short warm fingers,

Push past the elastic of tight shorts,

And surround the growth of hardening flesh found with-end

A tender firm squeeze,

A prolong gentle pull,

Entice a moan from the depths of my lungs,

As my mind envisioned,

The fourth coming of desired lust

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