Phoesune

April slides up on you like a lover trying to drag you back to bed. Her hands caress your shoulders till they curve gently to hold your chest. She digs her nails deep into the flesh of your meaty torso demanding your attention to her. She pulls and tugs on you to return to the warmth bosom. Whispering temptations using words like honey to hold you on the edge of her bed. You know that this too will pass and this longing for her sex will eventually turn to a disdain for her variations and still you desire to live in that moment.

April takes your hesitation as an invitation and pulls herself closer. She wraps her long warm legs around your waist, pressing her still nude form against your naked back. Her mouth, closer now to the nape of you neck, begins to taste sweat still soaking from your skin. You feel the rigid pressure of her teeth scrapping under the line of your jaw sending chills through your body. You lean unwillingly into her and feel the breath of her smile cool the now burning patches where her incisors scored your neck. “Come back” she says. “Stay with me” she says. “Love me again” she demands.

April pulls back to the headboard and spreads her arms out beside her. The frozen breeze that shivers across your back and the silence from the pillows causes you to turn and look at her. She squirms once more and lifts her hand, twisting her wrist, and pointing a long slender finger at you. She eyes you over her hand like a marksman aiming for a dove and tugs on some invisible wire with her index to pull you to her. Bound by this unseen chain of yearning you abandon your obligations and creep toward her slowly. Just as you come close and can taste her scent in the air, April fades and you are left grasping at the floral linen of May.