Her Hand, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Her Hand

Her hot hand slid across my thigh
While fingers did a spider’s crawl
My breath reached a dangerous high

Her hot hand slid across my thigh
She’s on a mission can’t deny
Like an angler begins to trawl

Her hot hand slid across my thigh
While fingers did a spider’s crawl

Image credit:

https://www.newsbreak.com/news/0OIWGzbs/dear-therapist-my-wifes-sister-came-on-to-me

Special note:

Tomorrow I will post a second version of the single idea. Please read both and comment. Select the one you prefer and it is your choice. Until tomorrow

Leave a Reply