I dream our touching and your return of this spark for like and want. The mingling of our breath that forms a wave as our clothes fall and rumple…unwrapping, exposing. I dream of our lips and curling tongues that map the contours of joy and the lifting and pushing of tightening flesh upon flesh. I dream the quickening flutter of hearts like hummingbirds. The holding, bound, and the letting go. Your eyes half closed or covered or open wide and the sound of longing and pleasure, both a shout and a whisper. I dream the swelling of your dark forms and the opening of your body, the tumbling whirl of your hair. The hurried and the slow. The push, the weight of your marrow over mine. Fingers holding and parting and wet with our teasing and beckoning. The tempting and hesitation. The devouring and conquering and the again and again. Our contorted bodies, carnal acrobats, with the ebbing and flow of climax or the holding just at a point of explosion. The return half back to the beginning as we do not want to end and the re-discovery of flesh that is only just learnt. The pushing deeper and the letting in, the heat of friction. The shining and flushing of your excitement, your glee. The mineral taste of your delight. I dream how we brace and jump and arch and kick in spasm at this petite mort that we share. I dream...
We stand at the rain-streaked window, one behind the other and swaying slowly with the spinning of the earth. Your hands are by your side, back a little and towards me, open. Mine rest on the slight curve of your hips and I can feel the fabric of your dre...
