morning coffee

neither of us were fully awake yet as we sat sipping coffee watching the sun lazily make it’s way up in the east

she looked at me with a gleam over her steaming cup with an unspoken question of why we left the cocoon

she groaned and stretched with a sinuous grace that made the front of her robe slip open revealing her form beneath

i found myself jolted awake not by the caffeine but by the immaculate wonder of her flesh on display

she watched me watch her with the predatory grace of a lioness on the hunt over the top of that mug with a raised eyebrow

i was already running callused fingers down her ribs as if i were bill evans and she was the keys in my mind

my tongue tasting the salt of her skin the coffee on her lips her scent dancing in my flared nostrils as she moans

no words exchanged between us as we savored the thrill of what was to come in the early morning haze swaddling the day

how long did we play the game of anticipation while pretending to sip at the nurturing nectar of wakefulness silently

it didn’t matter as she stood and shrugged the robe to the floor like an elegant goddess stepping down to the mortal plane

oh how I graciously awaited my time to worship at her smooth cathedral leaving no stone unturned in frantic need

sinner become saint become sinner again in constant waves of pure need swirled with an ecclesiastic desire to please

as the rest of the coffee grew cold we found a way to wake each other with tongue and teeth and desperate want

saturday mornings are my favorite times to spend luxuriating in the wonder that is her holy word

5 thoughts on “morning coffee

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