BFE

He looked so cute in his jammies when he opened the door of the hotel he rented for the weekend. "Hi". Hair tossed in a dimly lightroom accompanied by the swag of the century. He took my things and hughed me for a long while. 

He looked nervous. It felt heavy in the room. He kissed me and looked at me hungrily, nervous, ready.

Blackout curtains were drawn, the completion of a night's sleep and, morning wood, congratulatory but not a full celebration. Assumptions, doubts, layoff thoughts to bipartisan suggestions. The dance of warriors for top boy. Idle hands and the devil you say?  

  I remember the bed wasn't as soft as I thought it should have been trying hard disassociate from body and feeling and not doing a good job. Floating away and trying hard not to give myself away but the body always knows and tries to deny you the things you stare in the face. The dead give away is the rise and fall of the chest minus breathe pulsing of the vaginal walls, gaping lips, trembling thighs to where you need to be, want to be, desire to be, and to be seen in such a pure light is rare. Devouring the essence of ones tirelessly dying in the black begging for the moonlight to pour it's glow between your things once and forevermore. Yours, mine, ours a given earned and a title born only at this moment sparing the ago feeding the spirits soul and it's evolution to shine brighter...in this moment.