Bare Flight

I am thinking of skin, bare, and of a kiss, deep and wet and long.

Thousands of miles above the Earth, and that’s what occupies my mind: a long, wet, deep (imagined) kiss. My skin longing to be naked, so as to touch and feel another (bare) skin.

Deep breathing. I close my tired eyes, being thousands of miles up in the sky. I imagine myself without clothes. My lips are dry, waiting to drink from a generous mouth.

Two, four, maybe six hands begin to explore and touch my nipples, my thighs, my toes.

I begin to feel so wet and ready, opening the long depths of my desire to the most beautiful (imagined) cock, the softest, not too thick, but long.

Now, my mouth is salivating, wishing to satiate my lust. I imagine one finger has found one way, another has found yet another.

I am naked and this plane is empty. It’s only me, and the octopus-like image I have created under my closed eyes. It’s only pure desire born naturally, my body is not tired. Only my eyes are closed.

I am all skin, wet where I should be, baring a deep longing. To be touched, maybe not a thousand miles above, but rather, in the depths of my bare soul. With a long kiss (and more) wetting it all.

This plane with no seats or noise. The air like water, thick as thought. Me, and many hands, and mouths, and cocks. Eyes closed.

Still, flying above.



October 2nd, 2009