He pulls us down to kneeling stances since I am too short. His cock finds a resting place under his pants, pushing against my upper thigh. I drip everywhere, raging…raring to have him…..Ezekiel opens and it is worth the years not knowing he awaited; worth the entire road of shit suffered from this life’s birth.
I could taste hundreds, millions, and never imbibe this. Wouldn’t want it from any other. The Earth before it rolled from its larval shell…..the rivers in the meadowbrook orchid planes, where nightshade blooms fertilized by vein sprays…..the stags trampling obstacle course boundaries, bent on returning to endless oceans……He curled beneath me, and let my body drive….
There are dragons and daggers and ice picks and craters where the Moon napped and sucked on trepidation. A place where the Sun thawed each morning compliant to the pact of dripping blood spots. He is not absent of fear – the banshee roils…the fear of losing me this time round…
It is the only blight in his cunning attack upon the mundane. He does not want to sleep alone in the rain again.
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