I love that moment…
When maybe we take a break from what we are doing just to make love. I love the feel of you, your wetness, your breasts, the way your hands reach towards me. My hands on flat belly, feeling your muscles spasm with my tongue.
I love that moment when your laughter is infectious and you talk through your gasps and and your happiness radiates like a heart beat. Like your heart beat on my lips in the candle light and cold walls of our room.
I love to explore with you, down corridors and dark places, down Egyptian pyramids and through deep dark jungles straight into a hot tub, or a card game, or just love. I love that you are by my side, I do. Broken, imperfect us. I do. I wish it was easier. Sometimes. I wish we could have more time. More time to hold hands, love, cuddle, laugh. That’s all I want. Just more good time with you.
I would build my temple to you like witches spells
A sprig of mischief
A overflowing cup of lust
A bucket of laughter
A barrel of fiery passion for each other.
I’d mix that all together and douse us before we went out into the world.
I’d make charm bracelets mixed with your smile.
if you are Mary, then I must be the chimney sweep, and we are both integral to the story.
Incense sticks of coconut and verbena, of our sex, and that high chlorine scent of cum splattered on your pussy lips.
I wish that we could have that cabin sometimes. Me and you. Toiling away a winter together. Card games and music and tea and books. Alone but for the wind and stars, and far off radio signals, letting us dance together in the night.
Where I could bend you over so many things and let you howl at the night as I suck your clit, and finger your pussy. Your breath fogging the air, like a train, as you cum in the cold stillness.
Where you suck me off against a tree trunk, my cum dripping off your chin, and there is no chance of being caught, every single place in this world is a place we can fuck. It’s a place we can laugh. It’s a place we can tromp and discover. You have pine needles in your hair, and dirt smudges across your breasts from my hands.
We could build great fires to push back the cold for the night. Tell stories in the lamp light and draw our life with bits of soot and chalk on the walls and just leave our handprints to mystify. I could fuck you in the ass as your hands and breasts leave pictographs on the stone.
I dream of sitting on a smelly train with you. Looking across at you as the scenery goes by. You are content and excited and calm. You are lovely in the light reflected off the snow outside.
And later…with your legs pushed up in the air, and the door locked and shades drawn, I could rub your clit with my thumb as I fuck you, as the trees go by in a blur. And as we pull into yet another train station I could watch you cum on my cock as I cover your mouth with my own to stifle your screams as I fuck you through your orgasm until I pull out and reach my own. I could jack off into your mouth, as your pussy drips down the seat, and your chest still heaves, your breasts pulled out of your shirt, and catch your breath between gasps and sucking the last few drops from me.
You are my favorite and my only. I think of sitting with you in the train bar, idle chit chat around us, and we are smitten with our time together. You look beautiful in one of your dresses, your hand on my cock rubbing, your smile radiant as always. You toy with your tiny straw for your drink with your tongue, and it feels as though everything in our life together is some sort of flirting with one another. Music plays from somewhere in the train car, lost radio signals that ride along the tracks with us. You are my one. My perfect do over, my lovely wife.
We listen to the reassuring rhythms of the tracks as we play a card game and you beat me mercilessly, but that’s ok, because I’m with you.
In heart, soul, mind, and cock. You are it. And as we tidied up, and you wipe the cum from your face, the train has stopped and we go off on another adventure together, your breath still smelling faintly of me as we get jostled by fellow travelers, all of us running to the next adventure, and we are two but we have our hands entwined.
Choo choo indeed.
”Up where the smoke is
All billered and curled
‘Tween pavement and stars
Is the chimney sweep world”