Some things come to you
when you are alone
with your thoughts
and the sun is setting through your window.

Like now.

I am with my thoughts
of yesterday.
She is small
fragile looking.
I am not.
She came to me for solace
. . . wanted more.
I want you,
covered my mouth with
sweeter than candy store lips
trembling, goosebumps all over her
part worry, part want
don’t say you love me.
Just need me.
Licked my cheek with tenderness
found my
throat and then caressed a nipple
nipping it
almost too hard
moaning like cats purr
plying my body
with more than a zillion kisses.
Guided my hand inside her blouse
her pride
feminine pride
soft, oh so soft . . . breasts
hardening button nipple.
Close your eyes
let me lay hands on you.
Wind puffing through open window
cool on my fevered body
finger hot, sizzling to the touch
moving over and under and around
clefts and crevasses of me.
Stand, she urged.
I did.
Pealed cotton jockeys
to my ankles
put finger on my chest
pushed me onto the bed
massaged my feet
never knew about that erogenous zone
she did
shimmed up me like
a spider monkey up a tree
mouth claimed possession
then and there
for awhile
soft whimpers of her lust
sang a cappella
further up she inched
rose like an apparition
straddled her stallion for the night
until the dawn of civilization broke
through the window.

Sometimes the past
comes alive
at the oddest moments.

©March 13, 2005 / Jerry Pat Bolton