Mombiehammer

Big spoon.  

Be the big spoon. 

Soft stomach meets soft back, spine arching to find comfort and burying deeper into me to find warmth and care and love.  A gentleman’s jewel slightly thickens against buttocks and between thighs.  The back of a neck, inviting before lips.  Arm resting on hip, or elbow bent around waist, breast held and softly squeezed until eyes grow heavy and weary mind gives in to slumber. 

And then what may happen may happen, share what no-one knows in that airy and bright room.

Rise, naked and wobbly, shakily making tracks and leading a trail to a room of hard surfaces to pour inky black liquid into cups that are far too large, a dash of milk, a touch of sweetness, then stumble back to collapse into bed and spill drops on the sheets but we don’t really mind, despite tuts escaping from lips and clicked tongues.  Sip in silence, comfortable, no words are needed. 

It is a gentle thing, a loving thing, a wonderful and knowing glance between eyes that says “I know what we did”.  For passion, for dignity knows.  

Planning the day, planning not much of anything, just to share and be, together is all that counts and all that really matters.  I’m eager and wanting and lustful and full of longing.