One Red Rose in the Rain

Sometimes, in my dreams I'm still standing there...

One red rose in the rain.

I will always remember that kiss.
The way I woke up from it for days:
all of softness, ache, hunger.
The first warm rain of Spring.
As the rose passed from me to you.

The next time we met,
after another kiss
which was instead,
the first of many,
you took my hand.
Two fingers, under your skirt,
between your legs.

"I fucked myself with it." you say,
holding my wrist with both hands
and leaning into me, kissing me deeply.
The warmth of you reaching fingers
barely allowed to graze
through your small shock of hair.

"You what?" Your face in my hands, eyes so bright.
You kiss me like there is no such thing as sin,
as though it is the only thing you have ever wanted to do.
And as you suck on my tongue,
you bring my fingers up your wet, warm, slippery lips
and down again so slowly.
Your moan passes through my entire body.

"The rose." you say.

"Like this."
looking into my eyes
making slow, small circles against,
and just slightly between, your labia.
"It was so soft" you say
as you slide them both inside.
As together,
your eyes close and your breath catches.

"I pretended you were watching me."
Deliberate and dilatory,
my hand in yours.
In and out of your soaking pussy,
"That I was doing it for you."
holding my wrist with only one hand now.
The other wrapped up and around my neck,
as I take your weight into my free arm.
"I wanted you to see..."

Kissing me again, as I hear the first drips of you
start to fall loudly on the hardwood floor.

The way the first storm of Summer begins.