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My fingers

My fingers want to hold you

An extension of my heart, they want to caress you

I want your face in my hands as I feel your soft skin through my fingerprints

I want to feel your hair slide down between them as I hold you tightly pulling you close, controlling you with a kiss.

I want them to touch bare skin and glide over curves given freely

I want them to tickle through the tension, to feel muscle and bone and body beneath offered flesh

I want them to feel your lip’s gentle kisses on each tip, teeth at the knuckle, tongue on the joint, tasting, foreshadowing, inviting. I want to feel the roughness of your tongue as my fingers explore the warm darkness, the canine, the molar, cutting, grinding, marking, growling as the animal rises.

I want to memorize you with my touch, learn your secrets with my hands, reveal your nature as 10 eager digits study, memorize, and capture.  I want to trace every bruise, and heal every ache.  I want to learn your stories, and embed them in my fingertips.

I want my fingers to touch, own, and spread you wide for my gaze and adoration. I want my finger to stroke, penetrate, bruise, and mark.

I want you to guide my fingers without embarrassment or hesitation, tell me, show me, take my touch, make it your own.  

I want you to love me for my touch as my fingers gather you for my heart.   
They learn you for my memories. 
They imprint me upon your skin, and you remember me.
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