His fingers trace my skin. Soft. Strong. They slide down my neck, to my chest. Reaching in they touch my heart. My body explode with lust, his beauty hangs above me like a mid-autumns fog. His hand that holds me up shakes underneath him as the electricity from my body magnifies his emotions and tears through him like lightening, making him feel the adrenaline pumping in my veins as he grips my still beating heart. Our bodies become one as he falls onto me. Panting as if he has just run a marathon. His hand lays on my heart, I look at him. His soft lips hang open, his button nose leads to his glistening eyes full of joy and lust.
He is beautiful.
He could be art.
He is art.
He removed his hand and slowly I felt my body drain of the energy that had overcome me. His eyes shut as he falls asleep on my chest. I gaze upon him like I gaze upon paintings in a museum. With wonder, with awe.
About the Creator
Isobel B
I am a member of the Queer* community. I am pansexual and in a relationship with a FTM transgender. I am an artist and a Sociology major.
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