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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required He sat, open shirt, milking the good from the last few drops of that hot beer. Waiting on a three legged bar stool for something to develop, but nothing was near. A bead of sweat rolled down ever so slowly past his navel, an outie, he hated that. It traversed a most beautiful six pack to rest before sliding under blue jeans hiding no fat. She licked her curvaceous lips unknowingly. Just wanting to relax from the night before, she stared blankly ahead at a drop of sweat. As it stopped, and curved, and moved, she swore. Something moved him, he knew not what. Coming back down to earth, he slowly looked about. She was no more than four feet away. So surprised was he, his first thought was a way out. Silently laughing to herself, the first round was hers. She could afford to let him win one or two, to let him think he was the man about town, before she scored the coup. They played cat and mouse for the rest of the night. It was steamy. Summer love developed in spite of all. Continuing far past summer and even grad school. Far reaching into the depths of everlasting soul. He sat, open shirt, milking the good from the last few drops of that hot beer. A drop of sweat rolled ever so slowly down and over that horrendous exposed sphere. She licked her curvaceous lips unknowingly. Still loving that fat, jelly belly who adored her. Still playing cat and mouse with her hon. Easier now, for him to recognize the purr. © Jul 12 2010 for Linda’s "Steamy Love" contest
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