Waiting
Posted on Sun, 12/28/2008 - 23:52
In the middle of a random cafe is probably not the place to kiss you first. So I don't.
Don't even think of it, truth be told, through the close standing, the lingering eye contact broken only by my eyes wandering to the tiny dark spot on your biteable bottom lip. Through the long tight hug and my hand on the curve of your waist.
After you're gone, full milky coffee to cool quickly in the damp December chill: the pricking heat of your breasts touching mine spread fire to my cunt.
This still makes me inhale quickly and hold tight; makes me wet.
Like I did the first day I read it.
Like I did that afternoon when I felt it.
Her bottom lip, her curve, my hand, the brush - you nailed every longing, anticipating, wanting detail.