Stroking Sunlight

 You keep
touching your hair.
Softly and self-consciously, and
only when you look away.
The sunset behind you is
making it glow and it looks
like you're stroking sunlight.
I wonder what it's like to
stroke the sunlight. Or any other
part of you.
Your eyes are
filled with doubt, and you seem
unaware of just how
beautiful you are. Your nervousness
betrays you; you know that
I want you. And you're afraid that
I'll do just what it is we both desire.
I want to pull you in further,
but I know you won't go.
Not yet.
I watch you smoke your cigarette and
think how fragile you look,
holding on to your addiction
so that you won't run away.
You want to be here.
But you don't want to want to be here.
You take a drag, hold it and look up at me and
my heart stops.
God, you're beautiful.
You exhale and look away with a low
chuckle, and I catch myself
because I've been staring, and
my mouth was open.
All right, I can take a little
humor at my
expense.
I reach over and
lift your chin
(the sexiest chin I've ever seen)
so your eyes stare right into mine
and your eyes are gray, goddammit.
Why couldn't they be anything but
gray? They speak to me and I can't help it and
my mouth is on yours and your lips
are so soft and your
tongue is so sweet as it darts in my mouth and I
wonder why I didn't do this long ago.
I feel you inhale and I kiss you deeper,
you taste like years worth of dreams
(and coffee, oh, God you taste like coffee).
My hands are at the back of your head, and I'm
stroking the sunlight and it's
soft and glowing I think and
your hands are on my breasts and your
hands are so elegant.
I can't stop kissing you,
I want to inhale you,
and your hands feel so good, please don't stop.
I'm reaching around you,
up underneath your shirt and I've
unhooked your bra
and even your back is so damn
gorgeous and touchable.
Your breasts are calling to me,
and they demand my attention,
but I just can't break this kiss.
So my hands move away from the sunlight
and feel your beautiful breasts,
and I hear you, I feel you gasp
when I touch them.
They feel perfect.
You moan against my lips and I think
I'll go mad. I finally break away from your
(intoxicating) lips and move to your neck.
And then I can hear you breathing
faster and
faster and
moaning and you
move your hands down and slip them
into my pants and oh, God, I can't hold
my balance anymore and I lean back against the huge
sycamore tree. I bite a little, just to hear the sharp
intake of breath and your hand moves
faster, more furtively and I
laugh as my legs start to shake.
I move forward again, and
I kiss your neck, and your
collarbone, and every inch of you until I
get to your breasts and they're
just as perfect as they felt moments ago.
I kiss them and
nibble on them and
worship them, there has never been a more
lovely pair.
You accept their adoration
with squeals of delight.
It's time to lay you down,
the grass is soft and warm from
a day's worth of sunshine and could have
no higher honor than to have you lying on it.
And now I kiss
every bit of your skin,
your belly is so white
and soft
and smooth
and amazing
and it's right here in front of me.
Keep kissing, further down, and your
(yes, elegant) hands are tangled in my hair,
you won't stop me, now. You've gone too
far. I kiss your (even more intoxicating) lips, and
part them, and run my tongue along them, and
you arch your back and
lift your hips to meet my face.
Your pussy tastes like
sandalwood and honey.
Oh, I swear, this is the moment I've been
fantasizing about, but it never came
close to this.
Oh, honey, you are
impeccable and I'm
incorrigible but together we're
incomparable.
I use my tongue to find the parts of you
that long for touch,
that ache for sensations
you can't give them.
You writhe and
moan and gasp and
clutch my hair. The scent of you is
all around and I know you're close,
so close.
And I'm kissing and stroking and licking and
I feel a vibration near my face.
It comes again.
It's your phone.
Just ignore it, please, but
you can't. And with strained voice and
panting breath you answer.
It's your son.
He needs you to pick him up
from his dad's house,
there's been an
argument. He won't stay the
night.
You hang up and
zip up and
stand up and
stare at me.
With those gray eyes.
You smile and touch the sunshine,
but you don't look away this time.
You kiss my cheek, and then my mouth (can you taste sandalwood?), and then
you turn and go.
I light up a cigarette,
and watch the stars come out.