Member-only story
Ideas grafted,
From an Angel in black and red
A sweet Honeycrisp, tasted
Thoughts implanted, delightfully wicked
“Anon, lets away”
“Yes, let’s”
A timid hunger of her own
But shyer, though the apple she did hand
A forward nudge to say it’s okay
Secretive smiles upon parting,
A rush of abdominal lightness
Hours gone, too much anticipation
And finally an image received
Bare
And crimson impressions
Marks of passion unknown
“Be ready”
Aching anticipation,
Starving for the words
The touch
Is she still mine?
Will she taste like mine?
Home and tearing
“Tell me”
Whispers and exploring,
Stroking and grasping
Sweltering, sweet uttered prose
Inflames molten love
It is mine,
And always will be
A fruit so divine
— — — — — — — — — -
*Image taken by me and used with my permission ;-)
