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Rain On Quiet Fire

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In hush of sheets, she burns serene—

a quiet pyre ‘neath storm-kissed skin,  

arms arched high, wrists framed soft, 

surrendering to flames within.  

Breasts rise defiant altars,

 nipples crowns of roseate fire,  

pebbled tight with whispered want, 

aching for the tongue’s desire.  

 

Rain of need traces rivulets 

down her valley’s silken slope,  

navel pools the heat’s first spark, 

hips cradle embers’ sultry hope.  

Pussy simmers veiled in shadow, 

lips dewed plush with silent plea,  

clit a hidden ember pulsing, 

craving storm to set it free.  

 

Tension hums electric low—

muscles taut yet yielding sweet,  

inner thighs glisten with her dew, 

scent of musk in humid heat.  

Sounds of breath, soft ragged sighs, 

taste the salt on fevered flesh,  

touch ignites the quiet blaze—fingers tease, 

her back will arch, confess.  

 

Oh babe, this has me throbbing. 

Your turn—what’s stirring in you? 🔥

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