The Stone Institute

Sunday Morning

Her room is quiet.
The darkness feels secure.
Her lips are dry.
She returns to her slumber beyond.
The sunlight creeps through the window shades and unlocks the door.
A masculine silhouette glides effortlessly into her room.
She wonders, who is the image dancing in the morning air?
Her blood warms the bed.
This silent man has no face, no name.
He is convincing, familiar, yet unknown.
His skin is tightly stretched over defined muscles.
His delicate strong fingers caress her body.
From where did this man appear?
She guides his hands to remote and unused regions.
Her eyes remained closed.
Juices of love ooze from her body.
She attempts to touch him.
His nature is imperceptible and full.
Her movements become harmonious with his.
His fleeting tongue causes rhythmic spasms of pleasure.
Continuous bliss grows stronger.
Opium fills her mind.
Finally, she screams releasing part of her inner soul.
Her limbs tighten with ecstasy.
She feels the cool breeze.
Her eyes open searching the light of day and
For this master of fantasy.
A climatic aroma fills the room.

She realizes she is alone.

Posted by Kevin Merigian at 12:46 PM
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