It’s the afternoon
And, as always, this wakes my hunger up
It begins in glances and smiles
Working its way through to my hands
Longing to touch you
My feet, to take me to you.
Works its way to my tongue longing to taste you
My teeth to bite you and mark you as mine
It spreads to my lips longing to press to the soft and hard parts of you
It spreads electric down to my cock
Pulling it upward in defiance of gravity
Until it’s rock hard, pulsing and warm
It longs for your touch
The feel of your hand
The feel of it entering warm dark places of ecstasy and eloquence
Sliding in like completing a circuit of me and you
Trapped in this eternal moment of hunger

Sacrosanct ritual

You are a sacrament made holy by debasement
Made glorious by the sweat and ecstasy of your flesh
Made exultant by convolution of your mind
I taste you on my tongue transubstantiated into need and desire
Your kiss becomes my miracle
Your saliva my wine
Stirring my blood to churn
You are my altar,
my goddess,
my saint of desire
Worship with me