Standing Wave

My hair trickles across her belly and she whimpers. She is embarrassed to show how her flesh swells towards me, and trusts that I will bend the bars. Fingertips dimple her thighs and start a tremor beneath pale skin. The undulation of my tongue flows into her hips, to the creak of springs. Her voice rises; her body heaves from the heels and arcs over me.

As one wave recedes,
it gathers into the height
of the wave that crests.

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One Response

  1. Perfection. I must share this one.

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