In the parking lot of Subway’s,
Back in the rear seat of an old Benz,
Tinted windows rolled up,
Your hands are on my thigh,
Stroking the insides,
Running your fingers imperceptibly up and down while looking in my eyes,
Head tilted at an angle and lips parted to reveal, very subtly, your wet tongue,
Your clear, green eyes occasionally break away and drift down,
I know what you’re thinking.
I can feel you reach out and place your hand against my left cheek,
Holding it in place before you lean in close,
You close your eyes when you pull in close,
A kiss that signifies the start of something beautiful,
Starting off slow,
Your red lips are all over me,
They show more urgency while you strip me.
In this cramped space,
You are crouching in front of me,
Your eyes are still trained on me,
This is such a flattering angle for you,
I’d love to see you this way always,
Maybe you oughtn’t be this soft,
You know all the tricks,
Devour me whole,
Eyes staring hungrily,
And lips tightly smacked together.
The leather makes us both sticky,
She adjusts herself on the seat,
Hugging tightly the front seat while I gauge her up and down,
Be gentle, you whisper,
Worried of rocking the car too much and creating a scene,
You lean against me,
I’ll leave it to you to control the tempo,
I like when you close your eyes,
Such a delicious expression on your face,
Hair scattered untidily over them.
And yet perfectly comfortable,
She’s lying over me at an odd angle,
Holding on to the front seat with both her hands,
Kissing me while looking over her shoulder,
The sun bounces perfectly off her collarbones,
Just like a neon,
She’s glowing in broad daylight.
Grabbing a handful of tissues from the dashboard,
You look at me sheepishly,
When you stare at me that way,
How am I still not full from you?
Pressed against the hot leather,
After I wipe you clean.
In the midst of kissing me,
Rather than the Subway,
You say you want to grab a Shawarma from the neighboring restaurant instead,
You definitely are my kinda girl.