She loves friction
in her fiction.
A long hard contradiction.
Stimulating diction,
Innuendoes, read between the lines.
She wants, mutual attraction.
Chemical reaction.
White-hot aerobic action.
Climax, self-satisfaction,
On tangled satin sheets, so divine.
She loves her plot lines indiscrete.
Hot wet kisses, salty-sweet.
Basking in their latent heat.
The thunderous pounding of heartbeats.
Naked limbs, like climbing roses, intertwine.
With his humor quite offbeat.
Caution did, take a backseat.
Her convictions crumbled in defeat.
When she gave herself complete.
Unto the splendor, of his passion, supine.