Ill-tempered hands

Without vice enough to match a need

Soft breeze of your lips

Melting my sweat for you

No lips traced my skin

Not like you can do

My sexy stranger walking around

Traveling in my thoughts

From one bed to the other car

Rubbing my face

Or making a slush out of me

So selfish and conceited

To not give your behind out

Six pairs of hands is

Just right to hold your mouth.