Your mouth breathes up my spine tingling, teasing notes, slowly bending my blanketed moans as you control my ebb, my flow, until exclusively your lips are my addiction. I am alive with vibration. A capsulated whimper escapes me as the slap tickle of your tongue coaxes with titillating timbre. Your skilled hands cup me, amplify my vibrations as I spread inside you, controlling the thrust of your hips, bending you, twisting you, infecting you with our rhythm. Our duet so electric it swims through the audience finding hungry hands under draping tablecloths, pendulating its way behind the closed stall doors of hush-hush palmed and pressed bathroom trysts. The pulse: Progressing. Penetrating. Pinnacling. The barroom joint palpitating in primal performance. One note lingers, ripples shivers down our spines and we fall away exhilarated and exhausted basking in the lazy-cat sun, our music still smoldering on the lips of satiated back alley smiles.
I am completely yours as you slip me into your front pocket
where I will silently beg you
to play me again.
Patti Santucci holds an AA degree and is currently Associate Editor-in-Chief of American River Review. She has been published in Replay Magazine and American River Review. She lives in California with one cat, one dog and one husband.
Article © Patti Santucci. All rights reserved.
Published on 2017-05-29
Image(s) are public domain.