Better Than Sex

Turkish bath was clammy, couldn’t see through the steam.
Humidity was climbing, just like in a wet dream.
A sultry hour-glass figure slowly parted the hot mists,
stooping down she whispered “Would I massage her a bit”.

It was better than sex – I was getting aroused.
Better than sex – just playing around.
Better than sex – I was getting turned on.
Better than sex – then she/they smiled and moved on.

Jacuzzi warm and bubbling, water alive with pearls,
then in to the water stepped a group of young girls.
Laughing and giggling, and not wearing a stich,
teasingly beside me, I couldn’t decide on which.


Lying on a sunbed working on my all year brown.
Disturbed by female laughter, I glanced towards the sound.
So close that I could reach out, then without commotion,
she smiled my way and asked if I’d rub in her sun lotion.


©22.7.2011 Andrew Robert Chapman

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