Submitted by megan on Sun, 11/04/2007 - 00:57
Your hand on the back of my head, pressing. My ass in the air. You've told me, your stern voice, to stay still, to spread myself for you.
You are heat and light in the darkened room. You move away.
Cool air and waiting. My edges blur, skin and hair and breath into a coma of cells around my body. Your approach perturbs me, I lean in your direction.
The sharp slap. Your nails make moons in my scalp, stars across my eyelids, sparks rain through my nerves, a net through my skin.
You slip your fingers through. Their heat melts me, my body away, nerves a brilliant trail through the atmosphere between us. My orbit shifts. Pulsing rings around you.