I wake, curled warm and body-hugged under blankets, with vague impressions of phallic dreamscapes painted in blurred remembrance behind my eyelids.
A man.
Two?
Who, doesn’t matter. He is faceless.
He is not, however, useless.
I use him.
Again. Another.
Penetration.
Deep. Stretching.
Heart race.
Slow wake, body responding to the fantasy/memory of pleasure.
Pictures composite, still-frame, fade. The night-sexy details are obscured by daylight.
There was sunshine and water, naked dark flesh flushed in the warmth of sunlight and desire.
I sit with the feeling, holding it clenched between my thighs, braking the speed forward toward waking, delaying the opening of my eyes to daylight. I hold the pulse tightly clenched until it throbs, the fullness of release beckoning me toward morning.
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