We have our own world
in which we play together.
Only we two
to enter our sacred realm,
this lavish fertile dreamscape,
replete with its secret language
of adornment and ornamentation.
We are the caretakers of it,
trimming and pruning, planting and seeding,
watering the rich garden of desire
that sits in the meeting place
between our two dreams.
And no one will ever know you
in the singular way I do.
How I hold you in my arms
and my hands encircle the small of your back,
caressing the edges of the taut fishbone of your spine
that curves slimly down
to your boyish little ass.
How my fingers tickle the back of your ribs,
squeeze playfully the tender flesh of your butt
through your jeans.
The way I traverse the hard terrain of your body with my hungry mouth.
My lips on your cheek, on your neck,
exploring the well of your collarbone,
my teeth delicately biting your nipple,
my tongue dipping into the indent of your belly button,
then licking downwards, wetly,
to bring your hard cock
all the way in,
to extravagantly suck.
All the little games and pleasures that we have ritualized.
The abundant treasures we have harvested.
It is just between us my dear.