You kissed me in the kitchen.

And when your fingertips brushed my bare skin,

they rustled my sexuality.

And it made me forget the wine that was poured for us

as I followed you down the hallway.

The door enclosed our privacy and I hesitated,

in awe of this unfolding.

Your delicate femininity lured in my curiosity

and intimidated my corporal confidence.

Would you find my thick proportions beautiful?

Would your caresses stop short on my torso or limbs

if they weren’t hidden by these colors and fibers?

Then, wearing nothing but a black bra

on your slim faery frame,

you applied your poetry to my wounds with a deep, supple lilt.

You watched my large tan and pale curves slide down

over my hips as I wriggled free of my modesty

and our clothes mixed together on the floor.

I felt like satin slipping out of my fears and into your sheets,

listening as your body of work thrusted lust into my veins.

You finished reading and peered up from your papers

with eyes that betrayed your desire for my touch.

You welcomed me to your body

and I gratefully invited you to mine.

I reached over, pulled your arms around me,

and took the lead in this sinewy, primal tango between our seductions.

Fears forgotten, I traveled your mountains,

followed your riverbeds, and made my way

to the delta of your ocean shore.

My tongue led my mouth through your lower lips

as my hands wove dendritic under your thighs

and turned to ivy over your breasts.

With the adrenaline of a seasoned captain

facing the perfect storm, I rode the writhing waves.

I felt at home navigating your orgasm

with your short red hair as the sun

and your freckles the stars.

Eventually, the storm waned

and your tides pulsated and ebbed.

I laid my head into your pelvic hollow

as my hair fell to drape your small belly.

I pressed my cheek into the flesh of your inner thigh

and simmered into seaside dreams

as your southern ocean taste lingered on my lips and mind.

When I awoke tangled in your limbs,

I felt almost alone at the absence of my familiar, beloved doubts.

The clarity of your motivations trickled

soothingly into my awareness.

Your invitation had not been meant for me,

but for the glimmer of a goddess you spied slumbering inside.

5/8/13