Male Fantasy

To spread my seed into a woman
is like being buried in satin cloth.

I like to feel her breasts under a soft sweater,
smell that indelible fragrance
which seems to mean: a loving woman.

And then to feel her lips,
her biting at my neck,
the fine strands of her hair
against my eyelashes...

I want to lean into her, warm and open,
and see the sparkle of her eyes
  in understanding.

She whispers something -- anything --
her voice is a hush;
it's a throaty quality I long to explore...

Then a moment like no other:
a warm, narcotic sea.

I cannot hold back;
but I do return, in memory,
often and again.