ache

Thud of fired blood coursing, mercurial, quickened by your scent; the dancing taste of your unknown hanging in your sweetly unique air. Supple skin swish cross of your lithe legs, the glimpsed white triangle purely tunnels pulsing vision and shakes out urgent breaths. Slyly I slide inside a room within which you were deliciously naked moments before, chest tightening, saliva river flowing through my twitches and sighs; whispering promises to my aching imaginings.