KNOT OF THIS WHIRLED

He strokes my skin...

Fingers whispering over my back;

which ripples when moving,

when dreaming,

when standing still in icy winds.

He pulls down my pants...

Cupping my ass in those hands of his

as he darts his tongue in where

my brain has be craving.

He buries his face there & reams me

with pleasure -

The molten penetration is a knot of

sex magic whos strands flower out

to my chest, fingertips, penis - as my

eyelids snap shut, & my toes curl in a

moment of whirling hardened madness

of the highest, hottest, bliss.

That kiss...

Leaves my hungry mouth sated;

Nerve endings elated;

The tip of his tongue on my balls -

celebrated -

That is until this memory is faded.

© OCTOBER 2, 2000 By Jason Wright