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By Irongirl Submitted by Irongirl Date: 2006 Apr 26 Comment on this Work [[2006.04.26.17.20.29435]] |
| I've shucked a nightie or two more often than I care to admitt. A kiss that leads to the reach of the hand, to the sliding of the fabric up and over my chest and onto the floor it falls. Rarely taken in by the eye of the beholder. As if skin were more beautiful no matter the pattern on the gown. What is it of flesh that holds the attention of men at any age? The unique areas with birthmarks, freckles and suntans. The kisses gravitate toward these map points leading him to the lips. And at that moment the nightie becomes merely a prop in a movie scene off to the side and no longer holds it's role as the temptress from moments passed. Crumpled silk is shadowed by the light of flesh that comes alive upon contact. But in between romps, that nightie holds me together. |