Jason Whitaker

Writer

Saturday, March 05, 2022

I feel the isolation like g to the cold air in winter beneath the door.

I imagine you keeping me warm.

Slip that tip and dip my hips, fill me until I drift asleep in your arms.

Wake me with your snake to charm with a kiss, miss the hiss, with it sliding between my lips.

I’m dreaming so much of your touch and your body making me glad that I had no where else to be.

I see you rising, hard to miss, I could kiss you wherever you like.

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jasonwhitaker29171

Fiction, short story, writing

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