My Long Hair Is Made For His Hands

Grab it by the fistfuls

I let my hair fall wild these days

In long free-spirited waves

Taunting, teasing, waiting

I sigh when he caresses it

I thrill when he grabs it

By the fistfuls

He is both hands in and cradling my head

He captures me at hello

And breathes me in with his kiss

Sometimes my locks fall upon his face

Then he sweetly sweeps it up

As he moves in for the kiss

My waves are a means to steer me

And drag me across the bed

I am now under his spell

My hair is a rein for him

To pull my head back

And steady me for the fucking

My hair is his tool

Another part to use and please

His grabbing sending chills down my spine

My fall back into his pull

The gasp out of my mouth

My consent

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