Saturday, April 7, 2012
You cup my cunt in your hand, push the meat of your palm against me. My head hits the shelf behind me, but not hard. You're insistent, and so hungry. Your beard grazes my cheeks, your lips a soft oasis. Your teeth nip me, clash with mine. Your arm traps me. Your hand, gaining purchase, pushes the spines of the books in, and one falls. My hair is tousled, feels like cobwebs in my eyes. My glasses are steamed and crooked. I pull you toward me, scrunch the crisp fabric of your shirt in my hands, lean my pelvis into you. I want you too.