© Sauce*Box, Winter 1998-99. All rights revert to author. 
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Pulling up to the driveway you think about the concert.
How good it was, the music, the people, the energy.
The short plump full breasted woman with the thick hair
Sitting snuggled up next to you.
The difference between this trip home from Albuquerque and the last one.
Looking down at her you gently slide your hand along the side of her face,
Tipping her lips up to meet yours, lips touching.
Your tongue slips between to explore her warm, wet depths,
As a voice in the back of your head compares her meagre lips
To the imagined feel of soft full ones.
Blotting out the thought you deepen your kiss,
Ending it as a face with softly flaring brows above laughing brown eyes
Appears in your minds eye.
Dispelling the image with a shake of your head,
You open the door and get out, allowing her to slid out after you.
She follows you to the entrance,
As you stand for a moment looking up at the cold, clear night,
Then wrapping your arm about her you both go inside.
Leaning against the door to close it,
Pulling her toward you with your left hand
as you twist the lock with your right,
Bending far forward to kiss her again your eyes fall on "that big couch".
You can almost feel honey coloured thighs straddle your hips,
As strong, red nail tipped fingers massage your tense muscles.
Frowning you look down at her as she asks if everything is all right
Smiling you hold out your hand
saying everything is fine and move to your bedroom
Undressing as you go
your hands overflow with her more than abundant breasts,
Rubbing your thumbs over already hard peaked nipples.
Reaching the bed you stand undressing each other slowly,
kissing each uncovered area of skin you can smell her perfume.
So different from the heady exotic scent of another.
You pause for a moment as a wave of craving washes over you
hot and urgent.
Longing for another, rocks you as you stand holding someone new.
Quickly you finish undressing, her body pressed against yours,
Her nakedness against you, you pull her to the bed.
Stroking her sides and down across the soft skin of her belly,
Your hands unconsciencely search for that small silver ring to tug,
Causing sensual urges to escalate.
A momentary pause as you realise this is the wrong body,
The wrong perfume,
The wrong lips.
But having gone this far, how can you now stop?
Determined to put this phantom lover behind you,
You centre your mind on the task at hand.
Fingers explore hot wet depths,
Hard sensitive nub,
Causing her to arch up filling your hand.
Soft brown fleece
Tickles your palm,
While your fingers dance to a tune as old as life.
She is moaning and writhing,
Wet and open for you,
But you remember another,
Body pressed firmly against the thick wall,
Knee raised giving you total access to her own wet heat.
Hoping to erase that memory,
You position yourself over her,
Cock held suspended at the entrance of her pulsing wetness,
An effort to banish that sensual baggage.
Pushing slowly,
She takes all of your long thick length,
Hips convulsing erratically.
Stilling all movement,
Hands holding her at the hips,
Strong,deep strokes
Set the pace causing her to whimper.
Moving in alternate rhythm,
Sweet friction spurs you on,
Tingling builds to tremors,
As you feel your spine dissolve.
With your eyes closed,
You watch as smallish brown hands
Gently stroke your back and sides.
Realising you'll never be free of this erotic sprite,
You take an odd comfort in the warmth brought by this acceptance.
Smiling dreamily you fold your bedmate in your arms,
And drift to sleep.

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