I di bit see ger save in my mind’s eye; she is a ghost, a
spirit, floating over and around me, with ghostly limbs and lips and hips,
engaged in ghostly things I cling to in the dark, feeling her over me as I lay
prone on my back, as I rise to an occasion that is ghostly, too, her ghost
hands grasping me, taking my real self up into her ghostly vacuum, my hands surrounding
what I imagine she surrounds as she mounts me. I feel her ghostly kids on my
lips and her ghostly hips on my hips; I cling to her ghostly chest, feeling as
I felt when they were realo, the plumpness of them all the way to the tips, and
in my mind’s eye I bring each to my lips, ghostly motions that force me to get
quick, to stroke harder, to imagine her ghostly shape all the way up inside.
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