Hand and Imagination: Her

And she fantasized,
that his wet and grooved tongue,
slithered between the valleys of her breasts and thighs.
Out from between his lips it slithered,
seeking a home for the love he could offer,
seeking shelter besides the cavity of his mouth.

And she touched herself,
in unison with the fantasy, she touched herself.
She pulled at her nipples,
that protruded like two little love dots,
aching forward for a mouth, a warm nose to cleave them.
Her sugar sweetened the satin sheets beneath her,
and, like a river, her desire rippled forth.

And she breathed heavily,
her peppermint breath tasted by no lover;
She was alone, and the candlelight did throw her shadow.
Her body, soft as cotton candy, rolled,
her back arching to reach the insides of her folds.
O, the very fantasy that greeted her:

He slipped himself into her,
met with twin sighs from their open mouths.
O, if only there had only been a man there in reality,
and not just the bare face of the glass windowpane.
She gasped as her fingers knitted and dug,
and how her reveries repeated and repeated like factory.

And she felt it approaching,
her peppermint flavor flowing out of her,
greeting the open socket of a mouth that was not there.
O, what a wasted scent, what man would not appreciate?
And her body rippled like the finger-tap on a pond.
She then unfolded, calm, and wondered where he was.