If  You
Like to
Talk with ***
Then Call
Next Time.

I wake up
Check my phone
There are no texts/calls/notifications

My sister wakes up
Checks her phone
She has to scroll down to see
All her messages

It is lunch break
I check my phone
There are no texts/calls/notifications

Sometimes my phone
Made for social acceptance
And interaction
Makes me more lonely
And it shows me that I am alone

I go to bed
I check my phone
I am alone

My body steeps in this hot sarcophagus,
Coated in fake butter topping.

I watch trollops quaffing hoppy-scotch,
Flipping wristwatches for moves to jump rope two-and-two.

Like when I was 10, and I saw this ***** white trash can of a man,
Fly out of a grocery store with a 40oz like he was Peter Pan.

But I knew deep down, in my swashbuckling soul of souls,
That Peter Pan got Wendy by being a gentleman.

So this fever, that has my mobile phone not shaking in my pocket,
I keep staring at every five seconds for you to call.

Is just another moment in my life to cherish, because if we should be married, And I want to talk. I'll just need to walk down the hall.

This is how it goes
your hands will be proxy for mine
my hands will be proxy for yours
your fingers my fingers
and my fingers yours
what I describe, you enact
told in detail so exact

Just to begin
I squeeze your *******
knead and pinch
tweak a ******
give it a tug

Stroke your tummy
work over your thighs
move up the inner
where skin is smooth
circle around, moving in
till soft contours are caressed
through pants that burn
to be removed
that pain you to wear
and I see in my mind
as you describe
the spreading, darkening patch
that fills the gusset

Now they're pulled down
removed quickly, completely
and you are revealed
spread, opened, shameless

Gentle fingertips tease
dance in circles, barely touching
yet the fire within grows
back and forth, round and round
dance the fingertips
as both reciprocate
with growing pace
and firmer touch

I hear you gasp down the line
and your breathing quickens
as you hear mine
as your excitement fuels mine
as mine fuels yours
in our feedback loop of lust

And I tell you how
my fingertip would give way
to tonguetip if I could
that I can taste you
in my imagination
fragrant, salty sweetness
with musky undertones
the tip of my tongue now circling
then flicking back and forth
beating out the rhythm
that you best harmonise with
bringing forth your moans

Then darting down, back
between wet, glistening folds
exploring each ridge and valley
working remorselessly

Breathing faster now
with animal grunts and moans
directions of pleasure gasped
breathless down the phone

As fingers again
take the lead
find the opening
slip readily within
probe, explore, ****
find that place
on your front wall
yes, just that spot
that's a little rougher
and feels sooo goood

Add a second finger
working and *******
licking and rubbing
moaning and gasping
barely intelligible now
...yess...more...yess...ohhh
are all that have meaning

Finger three joins one and two
then the pressure builds
demanding release
and shaking and thrusting
grows to shuddering
and...yes...yesss...sooo clooose

******* faster furiously
till we both explode
hearing each other's
voicing of our ecstasy
in language intelligible
only in this one context

Brains and voices return
as we bask in the afterglow
and what passes between us then
in those moments
is the deepest intimacy of all

Cynthia Pauline Jones 01/02/2014

stranded on telephone lines
holding on deeply to conversions.
but i'm falling down,

suspended in air
i'm clinging to words
light and untouched
as they surge from
home
to
home