By distant moon
Date: 8 February 2001
Drummer Boy, Drummer Girl
Two drummers walked alone through a field. As they spotted one another, they were overjoyed with the aspirations of meeting someone much like themselves. Then my fingers slipped into the fold between your thighs and you smiled briefly and bit your lip. Our lips matched perfectly. It seemed that the wrinkles on the edges of your cherry tufts were genuinely designed to allow my peaks entry. Our mouths created a perfect circle as tongues danced within the fiery ring. Beads of sweat formed and rolled silently down our faces, colliding with one another, making love amongst themselves. The extremely dense, bright, white light that shone from our bodies as we collide in the throws of passion overshadowed the glow from the fireplace. Legs entwined with masterful beauty and they touched as if the most skilled craftsman had molded them. As if God himself had come down to Earth, as it were, and formed our bodies into one, looked at the accomplished feat and said to his angels, "This is perfection." With amazing accuracy, our bodies climaxed simultaneously with a rush of excitement that curled the very toes on our feet and arched our backs until we formed the final shape, as we collapsed upon one another. In a victorious stance, we laid together, hearts quickly beating as one. Your head rested on my chest, listening to the music of two drummers, in a field.
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