I wish sometimes
to feel the texture of your lips
on mine, the exact terrain of the creases
and the zone of contact unknown
to the last minute
till it fills every crevice on my face
and penetrates my being
making me flush with desire
for contact, making me flourish
and making me spread my body out in
anticipation, my hair aching for the caress of fingers
through it, to grab and to hold
my neck goes serpentile and my body
follows, tensing and relaxing
already feeling the caress of your soft skin
point by point, touch by touch
on mine, my veins pulse with the
fury of the blood racing through
the furious pumping of my heart
my skin tingles, waiting for
the touch of velvet from your
dancing fingers and the
the intoxicating smell of your bodice
making me want to borrow in
to your every nook and cranny
and to taste your salty existence
making it my own and basking
in the unity of my actions
to see your face emitting the very truth
of human existence, to caress
your tongue with mine, to follow the
line of your face, drip it with
the juice of my living lust
and trace the lines of your curve
from the tips of your toes, through
the lenght of your legs, the arch of your
thighs, the hot bewitching of your dark valleys
the serene flat of your stomache, the dimple
and the glorious curvature of your breasts
I writhe when I think of the moment
of your cries of pleasure and of begging
me to beg along with you to join you
in your rhythmic palpitations of the core
of your soul when you cry out to me
I want you and you want me.

-by Lex Lapax (11/04/2003)

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