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Brazen (con't) |
by Ghislaine Dunant |
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Brazen (con't) |
by Ghislaine Dunant |
| pushed against the wall. The place is flooded with light. I draw the curtains, then the draperies. I draw near, place the palm of my hand flat on the tip of her breast, a ritual, a sign of devotion before entering the temple. Silence and the immobility of our bodies. I open her blouse. She's wearing a slip. I pull down the straps. Her bra contains her voluminous breasts like a dike, a dam. So strong is the pull, that I unhook it, take it off, very slowly. It is comparable to the pull I feel-flaming chest, stiff ankles, moist hands. My penis aches with desire. I reach for her nipple, taking hold of it between my two fingers. Both nipples are standing up. My hips draw close to her belly, my hands grab her breasts, knead them as |
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