Infinitely, More Than A Number

Photo courtesy of BigStock/iconogenic
Photo courtesy of BigStock/iconogenic

So… I met this guy – at a party.

Real cutie.

Really into me, like I’m really into him.

He invited me to his home.

I accepted.

He touched me comfortably, 



He held me close – silently

                        long before kissing me

and when he kissed me …

Exhilaration rushed 

from lips to heart to loins.

Our rhythms synched naturally.

“Is this ok?”

“Do you like that?”

Foolish questions never asked.

He held me down hungrily.

Lifted me exaltingly.

“I need a break.” he’d announce,

then seconds later shout,

“Oh God, I can’t stop touching you!”

I didn’t want him to stop touching me.

He tackled me again

                        and again.

With equal force we met

To mutual explosion


as we showered off together,

a foolish question never asked

pierced through still burning lusts.

“How old are you?” he asked.

I told him.

His body stiffened.

His fire dimmed.

His ample manhood shriveled.

We finished showering silently.

He jumped out first.

Was half-dressed before I’d toweled dry.

He uttered not another word.

The silence saying so much.

My previously elated heart sunken,

I thanked him for his hospitality

Politely let myself out

Wishing I was ten years younger.

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