Her thighs became landing strips for record skips and nectar drips.
There were sweat beads like dew drops
and thoughts of her hands touring the lands of my torso and below
Skin is the body’s largest organ.
Bazillions of epithelial cells that sense pressure
before temperature, pain, or pleasure.
Ribs, neck, fingers clench the hair, the sheets, the silicone parts of me.
Science meets fantasy.
The palms of hands meet the backs of knees, the soles of feet.
Midnight meets three meets five.
How many nights like this have ended in sunrise? with limp arms.
There are 4 stages of the human orgasm and the final stage isn't the climax,
It's the relax.
The lay back and feel the pit-pat restack between sternum and back.
We go to sleep serpentine, 2 spoons on wrinkled sheets.
Phalanges resting in the scoops of skin between ribs
On our sides, our pulses collide.
It is scientific fact that two bodies can simultaneously react.
At a quarter to nine, your thigh brushes mine.
350 feet per second nerve synapses fire from the lips to the mind.
And No! Ain’t no making of namesake. An evolutionary slap in the face
but I'm cursing and screaming god's name in the same phrase,
Two times in vain before daybreak.
And that's my kind of sinnin’
The spinning occurs when the brain cortex overworked causes me to hold my breath.
The French call the orgasm the little death,
and baby…I just died in your arms tonight. Multiple times!
Hell, even a nun could read between them lines.
And things get crazy when we grind.
More then once the neighbors woke to crashing bodies on the tile.
And I'm writing this while highway night driving to you.
The mountains, mounds of boundaries crashing.
You made me a mathematician counting my blessings.
One education degree earned, and still, universe is teaching the lessons.
I never thought I'd be so jazzed to undress
You got me ending every fortune cookie message read.
Dot .dot .dot. in your bed.
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