Spread yourpalms, let him read theMounts of Venus. Iris to iris,watch him tastethe tips of slender desirelonging to encirclesurrender. Go slow when you holdthe smoulder of the Sun.Feel it dip into the horizons of shoulders,invite thumbs and index to crafta vise,a gasp,a rapture oftwin peaks twisted onmolten flesh. Whimper, breathe, smile, swallow,follow the flash of instinct,exhale down to knees.Nascent passion grows when...