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Céleste Jul 2013
"I had fun tonight."

The keys are in the door,
His hand is on the small of her back.
When she turns for one more kiss,
He helps by pulling her into him.
His arms are wrapped tightly.
They can't get enough.
Suddenly the door is thrown open
And they are on the other side of the doorway.
He quickly reaches back to close it,
Keeping always one arm around her thin waist.
Her feet no longer touch the floor,
But their lips never unlock.

The bedroom is up the stairs and down the hall,
I don't think either of them can wait though,
The living room will have to do.
The coffee table is nudged,
The couch receives them readily.
Slowly, slowly he  unzips her tightly-fitted red dress.
Working his hands gently down her back,
The red dress comes off willingly with one tug.
Breathing heavily, she sits up,
Perched on his hips, she starts furiously unbuttoning his white dress shirt.
This simple task cannot take any longer.

"Wow."
They both breath taking in each other's bare chests.

Entangling her fingers in his hair,
It begins again.
His lips are so gentle and sure,
He needs no guidance,
From lips, cheek, neck, to her soft, strong shoulders.
She knows to slide one hand caressingly around his shoulder,
Down his side,
And let it sit just below the belly button.
Teasingly.

He's anxious.
She's ready.
There's nothing now to stop them.

The sun is up.
Her head is resting on his chest.
He's playing with her messy, morning hair,
With the other arm wrapped desirably around her waist.
Their eyes meet.
A wink,
A giggle follows,
Soft "Good morning," kisses are shared.
It's not long before his wandering hand finds her bare **** cheek.
Squeeze.

It begins again.


Xoxo.
Céleste Jul 2013
I  believe in chances.
Ones that we wake up to every morning.
Sometimes we let them get away,
Most  times we push them away.

I believe in fear.
Fear is an inspiration.
Sometimes we allow it to inspire us to be brave,
Most times fear inspires us to hide.

I believe in dreams.
Dreams are born out of fear.
We call them dreams because we are fearful,
Fearful of chances staring us in the face.
We run.
We hide.

The chances are there.
Ignore your fears.
Turn your dreams into reality.

— The End —