Don't Ever Play With Guns

While you were unzipping in slow motion I thought about things. I was too curious not to slip a hand in. I'd seen it. I blushed the first time I saw. When I touched it was like soft alligator hide or the pelt of a tropical sea squirrel. I felt you rise and heard you beg. I didn't think I could do it. Each time felt like an achievement. I fell when you touched my hair. Those hands blocks of sculpted meat or a robot surgeon's claws but when mid-caress of my curves they were like wringing the fountain of youth out of a hand towel and into one's mouth. You slipped fat fingers round my ivy tendrils and slid through without a snag or tear. Never has anyone been so gentle. So cruel like satin and crush velvet.