A just-showered man (I am closing my eyes now) kneels ass-up in front of me. Shoulder-width apart his weight borne through his hands' palms, fingers outstretched radially, blue bedspread the canvas. And he a shade lighter the bedspread's in deep-blue wears a jockstrap to dress his dick more 'an his ass less.
'Pig' in relief a palimpsest across the jock's cup written over long & later tricks upon the mind's eyes. Memory though faded against time, otherwise nobly whittled. And with which he maintains a visual o' 'is'self different ahistorical fantasy, the bedspread's tale.
His taste tonight cast wide & narrow, and he's Relaxed Beauty: Sexual grit from tongue-buoyant desire turned spoken unicum from lips red-warm, so crisp I stand if as before an apple to learn metaphor, in possibility endless, through his body. His body hair blonde as atop the smooth-seeming surface a pearl the light seems to levitate just overtop the white nude of his skin uncovered.
Faint but pitch-perfect as if a breeze to the eyes were audible his air-drying blonde hair coalesce in two streams down the nape of his back eddy, whereso softly in to density a blonde more full and, well, browning, eddy brings to simmer quick between your neurons chemical rushes instinct to compete with and habit to best the intellect--as false dichotomous a mefirstimeright ever there were, for ever instinct to reflection, carnal play to sacrality--indeed, to all forces imbued human but unseen, a candle holdn't a proverb's chance in hell.
i limn his limbs' contours by while firming my sight settles at his round ass—indistinct, no two ways now, even that fur may desire my tongue reverse its currents’ flow, and he's Relaxed Beauty.
Makes me bubble up bathe his butt sybaritic and moan-filled; from his scent i’m salivating, but still-dry fur encircles swift-tightly as fresh-cleansed a healthy hole is loosely pinked from tongue’s touch.
He's Relaxed Beauty. Visible to everyone as visible he is to me; and others have seen his eyes like this, too. memory wrought best in not imminent a sense, as before you here his eyes within you a memory, a memory best wrought rather like what's written, or so from in him through his eyes I receive a different something, unique from what anyone ever has, or ever would, from him receive.
In this space I and he arouse, he knows his own self and he wants and I want to give to him to take what I want for mine, in these hands well as his. I want to force him to relinquish it to relaxing into me though his reluctance and my force are both only ever play.
Rather sportful the name love for its eponymous state, transitive and invisible as the Desire & the god that inseminated the laughter soon to follow.
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Thanks for the good article