coffee-friendWe began with coffee, slow-roasted,
Creamy, an aromatic taste. Afterwards,
We met at her apartment to talk where
No one could intrude into our private
Sanctuary. She asked if I would lounge
With her, a curious choice of words,
A liquidy lingual term, tacit with
Intention.

Piled on pillows and a comforter,
We talked at first, a fragrant blush,
Hugs, then a fleeting kiss, a prelude
To seduction or escape, to fend off
Politely or to fall face-forward from
Redeeming grace. Another kiss, her
Tongue slid invitingly to mine,
Receptive, attentive, and entranced.

Our kisses moved from neck to
Muscled arms daringly adorned with
Ink, from breasts to hips, writhing
And, yes, so unmercifully willing.
My fall from grace was dizzying.
A swan dive from towering cliffs,
I plunged blindly into her frothy
Roaring surf, where gentle, wanting
Hands guided my kisses to her
Pungent self.

Forsaken,  I obeyed in abject servitude,
To embrace what I had all these years
Avoided, yet with throbbing heart, so
Killingly desired, her trembling response
To my tasting touch and restless nights
Of heaving salty seas.

When I have that warming cup of
Morning coffee with a friend, I pause
Brief moment to dwell upon those
Weeks that blended into dreamy
Months, and gently whisper in my
New friend’s ear if she would care to
Convo privately, and lounge with me
Quietly in lustful depravity.

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