She rises and walks to the edge. She steals a glance back. Less
lewd than a Wink but effective enough to beckon Him to follow.
The conversation transitioned from dried fish to coconut oil
to hemorrhoids to the President.
The question was simple, finite. Yes or No? He answers the
Invitation
Its oddness made its simplicity profound. Profound and
Criminal.
Every smile with an invitation to kiss, a taboo; every kiss
an abomination; the remainder, unspeakable.
And when darkness swallowed the silence, their sweat
challenged the humidity of the tent.
On her mouth a hand, tasked to suppress a sound—born a moan, escapes a whimper.
The rhythm, carefully controlled—slow, intimate, impatient.
And With a consummating clench, they surrendered to the Explosion!
And it was a good morning.
