In my mind I am perpetually unbuttoning her blouse, a
burglar working out the combination to her safe, one precious button at a time,
to feel beneath in the palm of each hand, the tremble of it as I tremble in
anticipation, how warm each feels, how each fits so perfectly as I let my
fingers squeeze, one precious button after the next until the door open and her
treasure if fully exposed, how will the tips of each fit against my lips, first
one, then the other, I am still a child desperate for milk I know is not my
mother’s, my mouth succoring as my fingers find other buttons wo undue, leading
to even moister places, a button, a zipper, then I’m in, exploring those deep
places I feel tighten around my fingers as I do, her scent rising the more I
touch, a tremble become a shudder, and then a heavy sigh, all the buttons
finally undone.
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