A Cool Gift
I remember your touch; gentle, cool, caressing my back while you whispered in my ear that I had your heart and soul. The breeze that night gave me chills. Your lips brushed delicately against my ears, feather soft. First the left, then the right - my skin automatically responding with raised pores (is that what goose flesh or goose pimples is?) Finally, your lips, soft and stained plum, meet my own, and the whispering wind became a howling gale, echoing loudly, blood pumping quickly and with force. Oh, sweet ecstasy! You move like waves crashing violently against the rocks and sand inside my mind. The night is breathing through my skin. Your touch burns, as the wind, the cool breeze, turned hot with passion You lifted my dress, softly, flirtingly, around my thighs, exposing the place where my stockings (black and purple, floral and lace) ended and my flesh was exposed. I wanted to you so badly. Make me remember, is the only thing I could hear over and over in my head as I woke up, drenched in sweat.
Photo by Matteo Fusco on Unsplash
