Filled w/post coitus bravado he'd curl up beside me as though he had  another round in his joints.  Within seconds, he's so sleep I feel his  random twitches & involuntary muscle spasms coupled with that deep  chest breathing that lets me know that round 2 won't be going down any  time soon. I smirked to myself, happy with the warm and now quiet body  wrapped around me. With his massive form I was always serpentine curling  myself around his limbs, those awesomely sculpted mounds of toned flesh,  like a boa trying desperately to draw the warmth from stone.
I wrap  round him like ivy across the bricks of his stomach.
I am spanish moss  dripping from his boughs.
Watching him get dressed so early in the morning makes me smile. The  light is too dim for him to see that my eyes are open, but they are....They ALWAYS are.   In the sliver of silver dusk that crept over the tops and around my  billowy curtains I can freely ogle his chest, arms, legs, stomach as he unknowingly stands in nature's perfect spotlight. The  grey blue of the morning kissing every curve of his exquisitely chiseled  form, echoing each place I'd allowed my tongue to dance just a  few hours before.
It's a crime against humanity, un pecado mortal,   to see such an amazingly perfect musculature wrapped so shabbily &  ironically in a cheap wife beater. Nothing about his physique is cheap.  He looks like all the wealth people pray for. Delightful, sensual,  insatiable.....I wasn't going to let him leave that easy, When he bends to pull up the black sweats that'd been left in a puddle on the floor I  reach out to tug on the waistband of his boxer briefs and pull him  back into the jersey sheets I'd picked because they remind me of him. They are the same color as that amazing torso of his.
The first time  I'd turned the lights off with him, I'd had white hotel  sheets on the bed. Even in the dark, he stands out like a remarkable  candied spectre.  I wanted to melt against him on those overly soft  sheets, and I did.
And he did.
And we did.
Again
And
Again
And
Again
Until it was the bright haze of afternoon streaming in through the same  window and languidly we lay, spent and draped across each other bodies  all akimbo, adhered to each other with a paste of passion in too many  places to distinguish who or what was the origin. Eventually, he'd  stand, and begin to wrap that divine body in fabric unworthy of his  form. This time, I'd let him. Unsure, he'd glance in my direction as he  dressed slooooooowly, inviting me, challenging me to stop him so our game could begin  again. Eventually, the two of us would hobble to the door, 2 Olympians  destroyed by our favorite sport, leaning on each other like 2 wounded  veterans, and he would leave.
Long after he'd leave I'd find myself rubbing each place he'd kissed,  touched, held, caressed or bit with the sheets that still smelled like  him. Licking my lips as slowly as he had to taste the traces of his kiss  he'd left behind. Even if only gone for but a few minutes a sense of  overwhelming longing would wash over me.
 It has been FAR too long....
Come see me baby...
 
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