“See?” she asked.
“Wasn’t it nice to just cuddle this morning?”

Wasn’t it nice?
To press our bodies together,
To share our warmth,
To match our breathing,
To connect our chakras

Wasn’t it nice?
To rest my lips against her neck,
To taste her skin,
To smell her hair,
To hear her pulse

Wasn’t it nice?
To nestle my hand between her breasts,
To feel the curve of her flesh in my fingers,
To feel the hot, wet cleavage against my thumb,
To feel the weight of her femininity against the back of my hand

Wasn’t it nice?
To press my thighs against hers,
To feel myself tumescent, pinched in a crevasse,
To sense each tiny tremor as though it were an earthquake,
To slowly bleed in anticipation

Wasn’t it nice?
To raise an army,
To set the front,
To plan the battle,
To turn, and walk away

“Yes, dear,” I reply.
“It was lovely.”


2 thoughts on “Cuddling

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