| The dessert spoon rests within the ladle, cuddling concavely in perfect proportional alignment. Your head tucked beneath my chin provides the constant comfort of your hair's scent sans the nose tickles and mouth stuffings endured from past imperfects. As you request, for your security, I cup your right breast throughout the night, marveling over your nipple's nocturnal fickleness, teasing it as you sleep in hopes of steering your dreams down salacious avenues. Your lush bottom, for my security, is always there, right there where it should be, obliviously kissing me in slumber, but well you know that without fail this spoon stirs in the night, and will at some point dip into the warm sauce left on your stove. Contently you lie there, unaware of the darkened hours I spend quietly relishing the correctness of you in my arms, sheltering and protecting you as I peer into our shadows, ever vigilant, yet ever distracted: your allure never sleeps. Stealthily I ply myself to you, aiming to disturb you without waking you. Wickedly I revel in the grumpy sounds and little wiggles you make as you snooze and ooze, dreaming me slowly inside you, until at once you awaken with a clench filled with me, and the sauce boils over as you are turned over and Daddy rocks Baby back to sleep. |
| < -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------> |
| < -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------> |
| Poemission |
| Proper Repose |
 |