Our holiday would be far enough to make everyone but my lover disappear. It would be long enough to forget that we once had lives of any significance apart from each other. Once there, we would take our time flaunting the sight of our naked youth in the afternoon sun.
In those languid hours we would make sweet, tender love. There would be hard fucking in store: but not yet - not while I could watch the sun play out his colors on my lover's breasts as we undulate in ancient rhythm.
Of late, those visions have invaded my subconscious but this time the woman has a face - yours.
I dream of your ample breasts dancing inches from my face as we lie in adulterous congress. I remember the look on your face, at once rapacious and lusty, your hair wild and on fire. We are making up for lost time and hurrying before the real world returnes to destroy the fantasy.
I miss you.
Later, after I empty myself in you we collapse together. We lie with eyes on each other, panting.
"Hello stranger." Wit has left me because of you.
"Hello yourself," you say, and you kiss me.
"You had fun." My grin is wide.
"You're asking me?!?"
"That's not a question." I kiss you back and pull you into my arms.
