Lo! what wild talents are in the miso soup

in the words of sir george washingtonalot, "i cannot tell a lie...i like big butts."

my hand on the small of your back, eyes meet, we both know it's coming. the gravity between our two solid bodies increases as we draw imperceptibly closer. eyes drop to half mast, sultry, inviting, almost pornographically hinting. the kiss.

we are supine, your lips are sanguine, you are divine, i am yours and you..well, you know...

another kiss. a drop of sweat forms at the maginot line of your hair and scalp. i suckle you like a starving child, your head bobs in ecstasy, the drop of sweat rolls slowly down your forehead.

my hands grab and knead the flesh of your perfect and beautiful ass. the drop of sweat rolls between your eyebrows.

you lower yourself on me, slowly, like easing yourself into an extremely hot bath, the pain melting into pleasure. the drop of sweat rolls down your nose. the nose i love to kiss playfully, or rub like an eskimo with my own, which makes you laugh. i like to make you laugh, your smile is a ray of sunshine, your giggle is beethoven and marylin manson.

your hands grab my chest, your fingers dig into my pectorals like a cat getting a good backscratch. the drop of sweat hangs on the tip of your nose as you look down at me looking up at you looking down at me.

at about this time, the guy sent to clean up the spill on aisle 4 comes over and tells us we are causing a disturbance and we need to leave the supermarket. we dress and quickly leave.

if only i had gotten your name and number.