She stood up as her bra slipped away and I lost myself in the flowing lines of her breasts, the pauses at her nipples as I gently sucked them into my ...outh, my tongue learning the texture, yearning for more. Slipping her panties down over her hips, I scanned down stanza by stanza, over her stomach, her bellybutton and through the dark, curly hair. My tongue then slipped between her pages and I tasted her, the warm, damp folds of verse, the tart taste of metaphor and the earthy wet of allusion.. She pushed her breasts against my arms and back as we workedBut she never touched me. I was a teenager afterall.Then when I turned 18 she asked me to come over and move boxes from her garage to her house. It was the coldest night of winter.I worked up a dangerous sweat. It was just another day as far as I was concerned.When I moved the last box into the house, I took off my parka and my shirt was drenched in sweat. She offered to give me a clean shirt which I accepted. I peeled off my shirt and. More

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