Wrapped around a washed out cloth, frosted with glittering make up, we stared at the ceiling, laying on the mattress of his single room apartment. The waxing moon drenched its empty walls in a bluish twilight mist, broken by the dim outlines of the window frame. The air felt dense around us. His physicality soon conditioned me to reconsidere the hierarchy of senses. Tree bark! Like peroba-rosa or jequitiba. He smelled like tree bark after rain. Lean and vibrantly bodied, like a palomino foal.
He endeared my insticts... But the hankering to act visceraly towards him suddenly bounced off as an uncontrolable urge to merge. Soft coating and tight leatherish skin against my legs, tingling along my outlines whenever he spoke. He left me powerless, feeding an anthropophagic fantasy, striped from any attachment. How could this be, when he felt so close to home?
Morning striked in dreary pale shades as his silver lining chatter about whimsical gastronomical indulgences encouraged my mind to muse upon his frame, hoping to ever be around in case of any "unfortunate accident".
God, he makes me hungry.
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