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Sails taut, quivering in the wind
the fabric only slackens as she tacks
then snaps, exploding to the breeze
as hips grind against the current
and the sensual wet lap of waves
splash suddenly across the bow.
Passion quickly subsides and she drifts
against the setting sun – her figure,
now a trembling arch of sail,
eases into port and she collapses,
mooring her head against his neck
as the waves calm to a gentle kiss.
Well constructed sensual metaphors, done so well that sailing and sex seem to become one.