Waking, and sifting through the long, slightly exhausting tumble of my bank holiday morning dreams, I unearth... a kiss. I was looking at your photos, a bent head, a bicep, all bathed in soft light, and then magically there was kissing instead, a memory, a dream-shift, I don't know, but I remembered the soft, slow touching of warm, wet tongues and your fine blond hair grown long enough to whisper over my forehead as we kissed.
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