Night, and a delicate rain falls on Gijon: i think about your body over mine, your breasts pressing my chest; i yearn your lips kissing my neck, my cheekbones.
My sex...muscles of my thighs...
Is night, and is mild and rainy: i wish you were here, to let myself by your hands and your lips; silent, passive, like a child; to don't scare you.
...Some nightdays i get like a child.
Some daynights my heart's a purple-dark lantern...
I shouldn't say these things.
Now i'm naked, masturbating for you; my body wishes that were you fucking me...motionless, to feel the tepid sway of your buttocks on my pubis, to feel my whole erection inside of you. Girl.
Meanwhile, the nightstreets become sensual and sweet...
The dark, certainly...
Or should i hang around? In a bar that's always closing.
A sad, blue bar of haze at the edge of the huge, blue ocean.
...At night...
But i shouldn't say these things.
.
