Skin against skin, friction turns to passion. Our yet-mellow fires burn brighter, flickering candles in a dark sultry night. The curve of your body melts into mine.
Arm on arm, limb on limb, the fire rages. What began as a finger-pointing exercise ends in ecstacy, a little sortie into the realms of the G-spot. A few jabs and moans later, your tears still scare me. Less stiff than before, I realize the pills and rubber are choices I need to make, not you. The pain flows into the pleasure, a moment, a wave, a little vision of heaven, and an invoking of the powers above follow.
A nascent dawn rages; my mild throbbing rests against the small of your back, that little curl-up that exposes you -- my child-woman ice-maiden. I see my arm float on your alabaster skin; wandering, teen-like on territories previously chartered but never enjoyed--this much. You moan, still asleep. Heartily too! Red ears follow, little nibbles of audio symmetry. Little bites of porcelain fill an eager mouth with pleasure, and my ears with your charge to ecstacy. A little push and sigh later, we drift apart, a river parting with the mountain where it pranced until it found release. I wonder: Will we ever see tomorrow in the same light, again.
