something to hold on to

 On senses

Winter in the woods of the far north means short daylight hours and long cold nights.   I took advantage of one of these nights to play around with some words, images and well, whatever else popped up.

 

In the dark I look for It. 

finding It, I unfold Its curled 

length and inspect It with 

light fingertip touches.

smooth soft skin

firm head, slightly moist

It trembles at my touch.

I squeeze hard, feeling It's pulse 

throb in my hand. The beat

quickens in anticipation.

sliding my hand down It,

I feel a tremor in my legs

they go weak, ready to submit.

It answers. With a twitch

aided by its newly solid state

It wants friction and searches wildly

frustrated by my slippery fingers It

pushes and thrusts upwards 

wildly stabbing at air. It needs 

the release of surrounding skin

wrapping It in heat

 and matching  

It's need to join.