sometimes, when i am alone, working, mind roaming free,
i think of you.
we are together, that ghost of you and i. that memory of you. . .but always…you.
the feel of your hand slapping rhythmically against the glowing flesh of my ass. the feel of your cock, pushing onward, inward, despite my anus’ desperation to keep you out. the tenderness of your kiss, and the sharp sudden sting as tender turns to raging desire, and we fall together again.
tangled together like vacant clothes hangers. I read that today and thought of you. sometimes we are just like that, passion-spent and languid, limbs intertwined, hooked, twisted. my body throbbing softly against yours, fluids slowly drying on our skin.
sometimes when i am alone, i think of you.
and it’s almost enough.