whispered on my lips
the unfailing mystery of how hard you'd grasp my hips.
I move my hands down, embracing the showery fog
The water dripping, slowing, settling down my skin
taking the path I know your lips would take
from my open mouth, to neck and breast
encircling, exciting, the water's pressure biting
down to my navel, sliding closer
warm and eager, pooling softly over me
the shower's ecstacy.
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