Sexy Time

Noah Labranche
Staff Writer

Your gaze could be said smoky,
Maybe mysterious, or even downright sexy.

I saunter over, my poison of choice in hand, sloshing gently.
I say something I can’t remember, but
It must have been somewhat coherent and funny.
Enough to make you laugh, anyway.

I take it as a sign to sit, which I do.
An hour or so later – although it could have been three,
You take my hand and pull me off my ass.
Place your lips here and there, although I can barely feel a thing.

Next thing I know, I’m lying on a bed
Your hands and mine exploring each other slowly.
Even though I doubt I’ll remember this,
All I can think about, all my body desires, is
Pleasures sharper than ice and iron.

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