Less Filling

I found you on my back porch the other day,
beaten down with sweat from your long ride
and I took your hand and held it to my chest
so you could feel how fast
my heart was beating.

You smiled when the tips of your fingers
touched my breast
but you held my gaze as your hand moved down
my flat stomach
to the place where my thigh meets my torso
and you kept your hand there, as you held
my eyes in yours.
I pushed your face down to my stomach
and your hands lifted my shirt,
as you knelt before me.

The sweat from your forehead trickled down my skin
and your teeth bit down on the band of my shorts
and you growled to find your way in.

I pressed your face into my body
and I held it there, while we breathed.

Then I slid down to meet
your lips with mine,
and it was then that I could taste you

tasting me,

and I closed my eyes to find you.