I am in a slightly emotionally delicate state at the moment. So I ponder. And in pondering I remember lovely moments from when I was last in love. It did not end well. But the memories linger…
this is one of them.
A simple love poem.
PASS THE SOAP
We snatched a moment, one lunchtime.
He and I, in the spa-bath.
We talked, laughed, stroked each other.
No pressure to fuck. No desire to, either.
Just basking in each other’s intelligence and humour.
I poured some champagne into his navel,
and gently sucked it out.
I remember how we climbed over each other,
awkward and giggling, in order to swap sides.
The delight we took in being in each other’s presence
eclipsed any delight I have ever felt,
bent over, being shagged by some young stud.
And when, after an hour, he had to get out,
and return to work,
I wanted to wrap him up in a towel
and keep him forever.