by Sine Qua Non

You know those times when you hear a song and you feel that funny feeling of longing for someone to run a hand between your legs, reaching from your knees to inner thighs and then one finger parts menacingly from the hand it belongs to and wanders close a little too close to that moist patch of heaven pulsating at the center of the body breathing wet sighs to that sensation of a touch arriving steadily at the opening; these are the times that the tongue begins to speak awful truth that not even the mind can control, these are the times we fall defenseless to the urge to call out the name of the other; imagine the tip of the tongue charting territories forbidden to feel such pleasures and the tingle of a breaths touch to the tip of a hairstrand the pore breathes and exhales the scent of desire, and with a whiff tha heand begins to move wander getr lost in th eparts of the body hidden under layers of secrecy that inner zone home of the tingling sensations