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Imagine: my hands beneath your hips

I want to feel you come, warm against my tongue.

Closer and closer; some deep part of you, primal, wild, and beautiful, fears a faltering rhythm as you twine your fingers in my hair urging me against you on waves of rising momentum escalating past fears unfounded.

I know this river well, taking you gently, firmly, past rapids and shallows to a grand cascading waterfall, holding at the crest as the raging current entreats us, in buffeting waves, to join the melt water drop, drenched in release.

Oh… my… Your words press through clenched teeth and gasping breaths while your leg tremors like a prayer to Saint Vitus.

The crest is broken and I am embraced by the grip of your blushing thighs my senses wrapped in you taste, smell, touch, sight, my hearing filled with your ecstatic sighs unleashed — then growing slowly more quiet in diminishing waves, spent and seeking the shore.

In tangled sheets we sprawl, immediate appetites appeased; you, naked and glistening, trembling from aftershocks, me, in reverie, still tasting you, like honeysuckle on my lips