The Trajectory of Touch

When two bodies yearn to meet, when the trajectory of touch is written in the stars, the moment of contact will remind you that you’re not that long evolved from your fur covered lineage. Small sparks and hardly perceptible growls of anticipation and delight mark the moment foretold eons ago.

It happened on Sunday. A perfectly nondescript Sunday, normal in every way but this. This meeting of flesh and bone where first contact was a revelation of the divinity of touch.

You in your pure-hewn maleness pushed up against the desire-laden cells of my body and everything in me gave way. With music as full as the soon to be moon pulsing between us, our bodies found a tempo that could hold the heat of meeting.

The corner of my eye caught your glance. Desire seen. Desire returned.

I didn’t notice the other dancers slowing into stillness, my breath still too hot to stop, our bodies now knowing each other intimately even though I still did not know your name. Months of a hunt now over, my appetite fed, I taste you all the way through me.


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