Shaken, Not Stirred ...... Wet Wednesday ... Prose Poem ......

Fingertips softly, gently caressed the flesh of my cheeks,

Slowly, they eased upward and playfully pull on my ears

After teasing the sides of my hair,

They gingerly lay on the top of my head,

Moving in a perfect rhythm with my head every movement

Words of encouragement,

Softly floats into the air

Fingertips grasp tightly on the back of my head,

While pulling my face up closer and closer to his scrotum

After a groan from the depths of his bowls escaped into the air,

His fingertips pull hard with urgency on the back of my head

Close to gag,

My lungs grasp for air because of his urgency

Audible tones of his voice cursed into the still air,

As the heat of his ejaculated white seed is sucked into the blackness of my throat

Stutter,

Shudders,

Shivers,

Shakes,

Consumes the being of his body

His fingertips lay dormant on my shoulders,

His voice is silent,

His chest heaves on every deep breathe,

His body weight leans heavily on mines,

While my fingertips held his body upright