I can still smell you on me.
On my hands, my clothes.
It's making it so hard to focus on anything else.
Sitting here with my coffee,
trying to work, trying to write,
and the images of last night just keep flashing through my mind.
Your lips, your hands,
the beads of sweat on your body.
I can't help but shiver at the thought of it.
How good you felt.
How good you made me feel.
I find myself already craving more.
Staring at the clock, watching the minutes pass,
just waiting until I can have you again.
But, I don't want to wait.
I can hardly bear it.
I just want you to consume me,
all of me, over and over again.
Your hands, caressing every crevice on my body.
Your lips, tasting every inch of my skin.
Your eyes, watching my every move.
I'm aching for it.
Yearning.
Sitting here with my coffee,
trying to work, trying to write.
This is how I spent my Saturday morning.
Waiting.
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To Speak of Secret Futures
Our coffees cool between us on the breakfast counter. You stare at the curls of steam so you don't have to look at me. That's always been your tell. Usually your gaze speaks volumes, so when you refuse to meet my eye, that means you have a secret you don't want to say.
By Addison Alder4 days ago in Humans
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