A Fantasy

in your bathroom, a treasure revealed as mist clears from the mirror

you touch your shoulder


my lips swell, rivers inside me heave

I land where your finger touches
deltoid round at my mouth

the first sweet fruit of you

I inhale, trace ley line shoulder to clavicle, fingers brush hips, trace spine

you slowly turn your head, the arc of your neck a miracle before me

I ripen

my hardness glides along your thigh, my hands cup your breasts

we inhale together, possibility fills our lungs

I watch a line of sweat descend between your breasts, down the curve of your belly

towards the sun between your thighs

my tongue follows, drinking in your salt as I sink to my knees

to your hips, my teeth nip a rising peak
my lips wander down to pubis

you lift a leg over my shoulder and I paint a slow inguinal line with my tongue

to the mouth of your heat, my lips softly brush swelling labia, my tongue rests breifly at your folds then slips

to your other thighline, paints down to pereneum, then lower still, circles and flits, achingly up to where your softness all ties together

my tongue, lips, kiss, suck and slide along sweet persimmon flesh

reading the grind of your hips, tasting your water, reaching your pearl, swirling so gently I barely touch


I am so hard now, aching as waters rise

in this small, warm bathroom, looking up at you

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