The small of your back, Cooled by my hand, you ask me If we are alone

Fiction, memoir, and musings, from Minotaur Productions
The small of your back, Cooled by my hand, you ask me If we are alone
Clasp your palm against My quivering lips so no One hears my moaning.
She spoke about making me available to stand in place for measuring and positioning. “Blake,” she said, “I told you I was going to have