Isn't it erotic when your lover is standing behind you? With you standing absolutley still, while they browse around with their gaze, and gentle caress. Tracing the lingere with fingertips, a gentle arouse and tickle, a reminder to look forward and to not speak? 

This is something I wrote as a piece of poetry or something not long ago.

I miss standing behind you. Watching the reflections of our shadows merge into one craft on the wall, as we marry together in unison. You, standing perfectly still, following my lead. Capturing every trace, exposing the feeling, breathing them back into our being.

You stand closer, holding that part of the prize for us to glorify. We both shiver in each others' presence. As you grasp my hand, gently leading towards my fingertips, trailing the lace of your blouse to the heated center were we so desperately want to go. As if you are reading my mind, taking us exactly where we need to be.

My breath folds onto your neck and pushes down gently. Your muscles tense. I wait for your relaxation. Imagining your will to submit, we move in together. Wrapping around each other inside, pushing back and pulling forth, exploring all we have at this moment. You push for a deeper connection.

You make me shake inside with uncapturable energy, but I insist on holding it in. Waiting for your right away, guiding me to the center, deep within. Pushing against, holding it in, waiting for your release.

I wait for you.