Thursday, March 26, 2009


In the dim light, her hips curve up, shining pale. I can see my hand moving over her thighs, almost detached due to the shadows that shrouded bits of the room. Her body is like mine but not like mine. There are planes and valleys that do not feel familiar to my hand or my tongue. When I cup her breasts, bringing her nipple to my mouth, sucking it into myself. I like the way her nipple hardens as my roll it around over my tongue, grazing with my teeth. But it is not my breast. I feel the shape as so similar but the difference--both the sameness and the alien excite me. When I push her down, my body holding her against the bed, our breasts touching, our legs entwine, it is all smooth skin and silk. The two bodies seem to know each other in ways beyond when my body touches a male body.

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