Almost Fantasy

It seems almost a fantasy,
A mist within my mind,
Of one so near in private thought
Yet far away in time.

Of skin so soft and tender
That tightened at a kiss
To softly rippled wonders
With dark and turgid tips.

Of roundness, ripe and fertile
So smooth and yet so tight.
Of secret silky tresses
That hid her cleft from sight

Her private lips were moist with dew,
Their fragrance musky-tart.
My fingertips stroked satin skin.
I felt them slowly part.

My manhood straining up in need,
Of woman’s primal gift,
Yet waiting for the sounds and feel
The lifting of her hips.

My entry, slow and gentle
‘Til cradled ‘tween her thighs,
The world became just her and I
Locked in that ancient tie.

Her hands caressed my body,
Her panting breath, my face.
Her lips mouthed quiet murmurs.
Her thighs embraced my waist.

First slow, then fast, then faster still
As flickers turned to flames,
Then blazed to the inferno
That cannot have a name.

Her kisses took away my breath
Then filled me with her own.
Her body writhed beneath me.
She arched her back and moaned.

In that exquisite union,
Old as time itself,
We climbed the heights of ecstasy
And teetered on the shelf.

My straining thrusts, returned in kind
That pushed me to her depths.
Her grasping sheath upon my staff
The heaving of our chests.

Her nails dug hard into my back,
Her hips began to twist,
Then shuddering together
We fell in the abyss.

Her cry was soft and pleading as
She told me of her need.
I pulled her body to me
And filled her with my seed.

We lay there in the quiet
Still locked in that embrace
Her hands stroked up and down my back.
Her lips caressed my face.

The memory still lingers there,
Floating through my mind.
That night when I was twenty,
And she was thirty-nine.

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