As I ride the
hustle and bustle surf of my exsistance,
the current
controls my body.
But my mind
always drifts
back
to you.
As I ride the
hustle and bustle surf of my exsistance,
the current
controls my body.
But my mind
always drifts
back
to you.
 I
wake with you cuddled to my chest, spooning you. I bury my face in
your hair, smelling vanilla, and your scent. My hand runs up the
front of your arm, caressing. I find a nipple, and tease my palm
with it. I feel a stirring in my loins, a want for you.
Your nipple hardens under my touch, and my body matches it. Past
love making sessions fill my mind, the passion, the fire. flames
burn, destroy, hurt...
My thighs brush against the backs of yours, so soft. My manhood throbs against the crease in your ass. I think of mounting you, waking you with my thrusting, claiming you, taking whats mine with strength and desire. You stir, snuggle back against me in the cold night air. You guide my hand to your so cold shoulder, and drift back into the night. For tonight, I decide, it's better to want you than to wake you. I lay my head back down. © s.p.
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