I think of you glistening, wet, standing in the shower like Boticelli’s Venus And as I think of you my eyes close and I feel my hands on your body Sliding up from your beautiful hips until they cup your magnificent breasts. I can feel your nipples harden as I brush them with my fingertips, Pushing out in desperate urgency as if I might forget them otherwise. I feel my body pressed against your body; moulded together, skin...