i’m not going to not say what it was about that single entirety. sometimes you marvel at on top, side to side, from behind. one of us gets strapped down, turned around. so many ways you can breathe into someone’s ear, maybe several someones if the world had a way of smiling that day. there is no such thing as the best. sometimes, it’s chest to chest. then again, the sweet and severe meld to welcome parallel positions that give hands – and this is nice – an absolute everywhere; legs that widen up towards thighs, occupied slit, clit, can you catch the chance and wish for a while, if only my fingers were tongues. actually every last bit of me object, subject to investigation. and what if there were several of me, wait. what if there were so many of you, hang on, one more time. either hand tied, joint spreadeagle, and even though there was no way to touch each other beyond, we’re talking warm, absolute damp and luxurious kisses, there would still be more of us. so many ways i could straddle, six ways from stupid you could rub yourself, waist giving in to whatever yesterday was, just one hour ago it seems it was December, and one of us would open our mouths, seek. sublime. sleek. all of us slither, take the time to feel, and find for real so we could all flip each other over. back, knees, shoulder blades, maybe one of our one of us would slide between us so neither could tell them how good it feels. neither one of us could even sit up without someone in our face, behind us, kiss one more time. if one hand is bound behind, the other me, you, gets to search, feel. pinch and scratch, how many hands with their endless ammunition, spelling out the last time we felt the world collapse, swallowed, swallowed, covered in each other, why stop when the brilliance of a single hip peeks out between the tangle of sheets. a needle drowned in water. imagine the world in your eyes, wide and wired, when was the last time you wished for something that just wouldn’t stop.

and okay, one of us breathes. can we?

have you ever, this, hard as you could, and ever would to the tempo of

please.

yes.

###

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or for fucking free in digital

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so long and thanks for all the pish.