I never thought that I would learn to love
the feel of you inside my mouth, of sun-warmed
velvet over polished wood, against my tongue,
so sweet. That I would whisper little nothings,
love you with both lips, hold you to my cheek
and shaking, weak, breathe in half-drawn gasps.
There was a time; you must remember when
my mouth would stay near yours; my tongue
might lick an ear, a collarbone or hollow of
your fragile throat, or even dip to taste your
belly — but that was all. My thighs would part
with pleasure, but only lower lips dared
to engulf you.
Well, that was long ago, I know. I learned
not to mind, and even to be glad to give
some pleasure back in turn — please do not
misunderstand! It was no great sacrifice
I made; just a simple little task, well
justified by the slow calming of your heart
as I lay against your chest, afterwards,
thudding quiet in my ear. And yet…
If I had known that this would be
such joy, such fun…if I had known
how I would learn to crave the fullness
of you, the pulsebeat deep inside
my throat — if I had only known…
Well.
We might have spent our weekends somewhat differently.
*****
M.A. Mohanraj
October 3, 1998
Salt Lake City, UT