Deft fingers
traced the feminine curves
that were forming at their tips
invisible ones
hidden so
badly on this
particular summer’s day
Eyes fixed on her youthful breasts as she worked
the humid
earth and I
her
imagined humid lips
hearing her soft sighs as
toes curled in
pleasure
she abandoned
herself
legs spread
accepting the
accelerating fingers that reached inside
She worked on ignoring my
hunger
then our eyes met our words
stilled
as she worked the clay
smoothing it gently
with
fine fingers
We breathed as one her right hand working the model
her left hand
working into herself, fingers pushing firmly in to where
mine should have
been.
Quicker and quicker the left hand replaced by the
right
fingers plunging
into the already
dampened white cotton
forgetting the
sculpture
and
only inches from my aching body
she took
herself
with each
mastered artistic
stroke
to where I
wished
I
could have
taken
her.