He Is Art
His fingers trace my skin. Soft. Strong. They slide down my neck, to my chest. Reaching in they touch my heart. My body explode with lust, his beauty hangs above me like a mid-autumns fog. His hand that holds me up shakes underneath him as the electricity from my body magnifies his emotions and tears through him like lightening, making him feel the adrenaline pumping in my veins as he grips my still beating heart. Our bodies become one as he falls onto me. Panting as if he has just run a marathon. His hand lays on my heart, I look at him. His soft lips hang open, his button nose leads to his glistening eyes full of joy and lust.
