I adore my lover's touch, his strong hands make my body glow.

You are the Potter and my body is your clay,
Mold me and shape me, do what you may.
Your strong hands grasp and knead,
Their warmth entices my body, making it plead.
Your fingers, pull, coax and tweak,
They awaken slumbering tiny buds, causing them to peak.
Moist lips emcompass, sucking forth the tiny bud,
Causing my passion overflow and flood.
My lower torso is draped in a satin sheet,
Awaiting the moment when flesh and Potter's Hands meet.
You the Master of your art, need not rush,
You delight in painting my body, into a glowing pink blush.
Every inch is yours to sample and enfold,
Your adoration and administerings, makes me glitter like gold.
Your hands traverse the terrain, approaching the glen,
My body trembles with anticipation, awaiting you to enter in.
The Potter chooses to continue to tantlize, touch and feel,
To probe and caress, with abandon's zeal.
Lips swoop in, to taste the nectar that has pooled,
Each movement excites and arouses, you are highly schooled.
Your face immerses inro the glen,
Performing feats to delight, again and again.
My body starts to glow with the little death,
You render be helpless and without breath.
Before I perish, you administer the staff of life and we take flight,
Then your creation comes to life, beauty that graces the night.