Bed

It’s almost late; it’s almost ten, the quiet of the night finally setting in. And the only thing I want right now is you in my bed.

On this night, I need its softness, your hardness, its crisp clean whiteness, your naked body spread out before me on the pristine purity I long to soil with our sweat, our slick, our come. On this night, I want to take you slowly, sensually, my impatience this once contained as I kiss you lightly, deeply, my lips and tongue tasting, devouring, my nose inhaling, drowning in your scent, my gaze tracing, my hands mapping, these fingers brushing, possessing, my cunt enveloping, acquiescing, my hips gliding, riding, your cock, your heat caressing, overtaking, our passion climbing, cresting, your deep voice groaning, your deep voice calling, your hot seed splashing, my fiery glisten coating, our spent bodies curling, entwining, our spent bodies even then ever yearning, my senses committing, memorising your power, your desire, your flesh, my senses drinking, drifting, falling, dreaming of the body magnetic, of the man by my side whose sweet, mellifluous breath leaves me in a daze.