THE ZIPPER

Here we lay. We ardently kiss and I feel your skin so warm, I mesh my mind into our connection that is developing and maturing in real time. Two people deliciously playing out our passions, so sensual, we melt.

I bury my head in all that is masculine about you. It maybe be covered in fabric with the mechanisms for privacy, but my desire is to open you up, devour you and make it mine. A creation of a memory branded into my brain.

There it goes – your warm, strong flesh set free. Then I can’t help myself. My mouth, my tongue and your eyes piercing into mine. The next second, my fingers finding my way inside me as I grab you simultaneously. This symphony of mouth, eyes, and hands play over and over again. The tendrils of my hair grace your stomach, brushing ever so lightly on what is deliciously hard against my cheek.

That is the funny thing about passion, a climatic moment isn’t neat or orderly. You can sometimes find yourself with just the zipper down.