Fridays

trinityeliza

It's friday night. We enjoy a movie at the
Four Star where you place my unsuspected
hand on your lap to find your stem thick,
swelling under the rough blue jeans fabric.

It's friday night. The cold air stirs the
leaves in the maple trees. At the corner
your hands hold me against the wall,your
arms embrace me,your lips roam mine,go down
my neck,down my cleavage wedge themselves
between my breasts... and we turn the cold
into a bonfire,melt the fog,calm the wind,
bring out the stars and the moon.