Climb Stories

To mark my eighteenth year I climb high up the Cheviot trail, Below me I leave the curlew’s plaintive call And reach with envy to emulate Swift peregrine’s searching swoop. Suddenly, beyond a rock she is there, This unexpected female walker. Resentment at her intrusion on my solitude, Is soon tempered by hips Swaying as though to marimba beat. Buttocks tight in denim shorts Twitch, in innocent provocation. Alongside her n...

A look, a smile, a touch,until it's all almost too muchA sparkle shines in the eye,no more need to be shyHands roam and explore,clothes begin to hit the floorNeed and desire building,our pleasure needs releasingBodies beautifully entwined,dancing to a mutual grindThe world outside fades away,in an eternal moment, we stayThis is the passion I seek,to climb it's glorious peak