Blue

I wake in the sweat of a
tepid June morning. The
sun thrusts through spaces in
the hotel blinds, and you lay in a
pose beside me, your gaze one I
have yet to see. I am in your
shadow. You lift a hand and - with
fairy delicacy - trace outlines of
harder things. My lip is bitten, pinned
down - my neck a playground for all the
things you do with your tongue.

Your weight is serpentine. You slither
up and over, pressing vessel to vessel.
My hands move on their own
accord, only to be forced back above my
head - I do not resist, I am to be toyed
with, to be presently your plaything. You
lower. I enter and swoon in your
tight heat. Use me to take you over.

You smirk and claim me by my
throat. Harder and deeper now, both
hands marking. You are every gasp, every
shiver, every "God, yes". I am pounded into
you. I am in my place. I am yours for
this summer joyride.