Between the sheets

I lay inside your hands waiting and hoping you will open me. I don’t know if I want you to open me slowly or quickly throw me apart. All I know is I want you inside me. You look at my front, you stare and read me. You turn me over and gaze at me from behind. You open me from the rear to see where I have been. You like what you see. You’re impressed with what I have to offer. You go inside me. The tips of your fingers gently slide from left to right on every line I have for you. You take me in and enjoy every bit of me. You start out slow and as you get deeper and deeper inside me, you can’t keep your hands off me. You go faster and faster until you near the end of me. You reach my end, you liked where you have been. You enjoyed your journey inside me. You put me aside and go on a search for one to replace me. Am I upset? No, I’m just a book.

L.A. (06/13/10)