Finding my personal rhythm, not just the essence of my blood pumping to keep pace. A gushing between my hipbones, circular motion of heat driven down my torso, as I am drunk on my own nectar. Sneakers thump to the sound of the trickling as a deer invades my secret place. A blinding force spreads out like a kerosene - fed fire pooling in my cheeks continuing in a gully across my breasts.......in the heat of the moment my sneakers are on fire. Cool crisp morning air fans my flames.
No comments:
Post a Comment