Horny I Guess (Show and Tell)

I want to touch his lips, I want the slight murmur of his hands upon my skin, the soft brush of fuzz upon my chin, and the lilt of a breathing chest; I want to open buttons on a vest and invest my body in the soft palpitations, the tremors of inebriation like a soft, cold breeze stirring slightly the leaves covered in shadows, leaves tinkling like chimes in a storm, the storm-cloud fierce of his blue eyes, stretching into the endless night when darkness covers skies and a slight rain falls, a slight rain upon the walks and curving streets, slight rain on the lonely wait and passing cars, shuddering through the darkness: waiting for the bus.

I want you murmur in my ear, whisper in my lips, I need you suck my dick, and spread pleasure spurting like a fire eating up my heart, my mind, my lips, my touch, the suck shuddering through me, moving up and down my spine, splitting time like ripe fruit, bursting like watermelon dripping sweet and sticky red, the sweet of tongue and white of teeth; his huge chest, his fervent press, the biting of the lips, a surge of pain, a spurt of cum – and then the hum of the night, the drowning in darkness, the soft thip-thip of a far-off buzz, the hruz of cruising cars, and the imagination of dawnlight spreading like all places, moving fluid like all time, and climbing into an eternity without the grief of crime – crime againt self, crime against love, crime against man – man who has remunerated sin, man who lies in big strong warm uncomfortably hard and soft my tangled, shaking (still-minded waiting) arms, and with slight tingling of numb skin.