wet dreams

He lay there hard and throbbing as she slipped into the fabric of his dreams. Haunting.
Nebulous. Eyes as deep as the ocean. Lips as red as blood. Long nails that etched bloody trails
across his pale flesh. Hot tongue tracing the path of veins.

She drank of him, ravenous, red currents passing lips both sweet and dangerous. Her sighs
whispering inside his head. His mind drowning in a sea of pleasure and pain. Those lips. Those
awful bloody lips. Stealing his essence, his blood, his life, in the nocturnal night of endless
sleep. Of dreams both wet and bleeding.



Copyright 2000 by duana r. anderson. All Rights Reserved..