the first was on the back of my thigh after she wrapped her sumptuous legs with those alluring, sharp heels drew lines along me. ah the view: as her legs slid down mine, her skirt slid up, my hands leading the way.
my shoulders still held a semblance of her teeth marks (oh, do stay a bit, i want it here longer.)
and her hands (ahh, those nails) left trails here, there and nearly everywhere. my back reminded me of rural road maps that i'd seen. i remembered every path that she drew, every breath that she took, every moan that escaped her mouth. her mouth, her mouth, her mouth.
as for hers, by now my hand marks have long since faded but my memories of her haven't.
