as i sit staring at the trees flit by, i leave
my head, no longer living in my sunken
sockets, descending deep down into the depths of my womb, stretching into my twitching ****.

every rumbly tumble of the ten ton
vehicle vrooming down the turnpike
outlines the echos of his hands.

the echos of them in the negative space between
my thighs that exists only in my mind as they
intimately embrace each other against the bus seat.
the echos of them still filling me making me feel
fantastically full and yet frighteningly empty.

i feel firmly on the fence between ****** and
arousal, every pothole filling my holes and
lurching me
towards ******, every
soft vibrational hum of
asphalt
against my asscheeks, pulling me back to my pleasurable perch.

i have reduced myself to merely a
warm,
wiggly wash of titillation, teetering in between
temptation and utter satisfaction.

i close my lids slightly and breathe in the
absence of his presence,
as if ive been staring at a dazzling light too long left only
with its dark twin in its vacancy.

the separation stretches speeding down highways, so i must
wait,
wet and wistful, to be bathed and
blinded by the brightness once again.