|
Mahayana
|
fingers carry on converging, ever absorbed into sitting rooms of passion, my lips sought after hers all over again and we kissed, our tongues imitating the unhurried and intensifying movements of her fingers, first one and then two. curvatures… smoothly elapsing the clit and persistent, a stroke, a kiss of a trace, a circle, an arc the clit... gradually the groundswell rotates and turns, my hips add their insistence, swaying, pushing, collapsing and rising again. and once more I am aware of her sweat, accumulating more towards the merge of an up-to-the-minute sensation. winded of breaths, inhalations pending sharper and sharper, deeper and deeper, my only focus the senses, kisses, touches, feelings, kisses, touches, feelings, senses, touches...until I must cry out or...or... evaporate with heat and pressure...
|
020712
|
