Amelia,
Your body is a quiet feast of curves,
heavy, generous breasts lifting the day
like fruit too ripe to hide.
That delightful bra frames you so gorgeously
soft architecture against skin that glows
even as it only half-conceals
the large, dark, perfect areolae
we keep imagining beneath the lace.
Every swell of you draws us closer,
makes our eager cocks thicken and rise
in slow, helpless tribute to your shape.
We want the warmth of you against us,
the weight of those breasts in our hands,
your breath answering when we finally....
ask for more.
The equinox holds day and night in even gold,
Leaves loosen from the bough in russet sigh,
Autumn arrives with harvest in her fold,
A cooler breath that coaxes hips to sway.
Your ample form, ripe as the orchard's yield,
Soft valleys, heavy curves the season steals.
The light grows shorter, shadows stretch and play,
Crisp air traces every generous line,
Round breasts that rise like fruit left on the spray,
Wide hips that promise warmth when nights decline.
What change will bring is richness, not decline,
A fuller woman glowing in decline.
Come walk the path where gold and scarlet meet
Your weight a pleasure in each rolling step,
The earth receives you, generous and sweet,
While I keep pace, my hunger held in check.
A well-endowed man walking close behind
Can turn a simple stroll to something kind.
Each stride you take, I match with quiet heat,
My length a secret pressed against your thigh,
Not crude, but full enough to make complete
The way your body answers, low and sly.
The season's gift is this: a walk that thrills
Because I fill you even as we still.
So let the equinox unlatch the year,
Let autumn's hush invite a slower pace.
Your bountiful form, unashamed and clear,
Moves through the woods with unforgotten grace.
A man well made can make that walk more deep
Each step a pulse, a promise you will keep.