Monday, February 8, 2010

35,000 feet

Winging my way, slicing through air, slipping through clouds, bending time.
Mile by mile, inch by inch, distance finally closing in.  
Seconds, minutes, hours. Hours, minutes, seconds. Ticking, grinding, crawling along.
Pressure, force, resistance, on mind and body and achingly hungry sex.
Floating, gliding, sleeping, dreaming, thoughts of you, thoughts of you, thoughts of us.
Hoping, longing, impatiently waiting for your scent, for your kiss, for our intertwined naked bodies merged together in the bliss.

I'm on my way, I'm on my way, I'm on my way. To you.


The Panserbjørne said...

Anticipation -- how it sharpens the hungers, intensifies the sensations, drives one to the breaking point of lust and desire. And how sweet the denouement upon touchdown, once a bit of privacy is found and those hungers can be indulged.

Ever joined the Mile High Club? :)

-- PB

Cheeky Minx said...

Truer words never have been spoken PB. The delicious torture of waiting, longing, desiring, and the even more delectable moment where the hunger is sated and fulfilled.

Sadly, I haven't joined that particular club. Yet. ;)