White Wine And Feather Boa Dreams

I wrap myself in feather-boa-fantasies of his dreams sinuous pinot-grigio-me; X-rated and never sated dancing to rock ‘n roll— 80’s dated ...my floorshow our foreplay welcome to the conjugal jungle of not-so-rusted lust sixty-something-shapely... 25th anniversary groom croons naughty thoughts; “you could make a young stud sizzle if you cougar-purred and preened.. half-your-age ‘prey’ would pray for a pounce!”— ooh! naughty indeed! ah, husband’s a spiced silver-tongued fox alright! but I know.. on this night in the right light white wine flying my loosed inhibitions like a cloud-kissing kite that he’s right feline hips feral and bosomed rib cage immoral swing slink and tassel-turn his head spins and swims in circles within circles his eyes aswirl in party-trick-pastie-twirls — imagination game— his hypnosis a sexy prognosis metal music rides the track —fast— an insane train suede stiletto booties bring the heat as my naked heart beats —fast— a cyclone metronome beneath man-handfuls of jelly-jiggle lingerie cupped and pushed up confection affection his sugar-craving r a v i n g as I gyrate scantily me —a flirty empty-nester a w-i-l-d flower of natural nectar our home once again a “teacup-for-two” a juicy seduce-y l-o-v-e nest my body rocks and talks dirty to him— skin-tight rhymes in negligee undulations snaky-hips hype shimmy-shiver-vibrations abracadabra of torso twizzle excitations flaxen-magic of blonde-tousled-mane-tossing persuasions he swoons his libido balloons he's a full moon rising Ooo—sensuous you! sixty-something-shapely you ain’t no side-saddle gal—noooo… long panther-sleek gloves hug porcelain skin the t a n t a l i z e in his eyes my prize as I peel satin fabric off slowly— turning my gloves and his desire inside out… I bump and grind his mind into overdrive and collect his caught breaths like paper presidents in the stripper strings of my ‘Saturday night persona’ —my persona; only thing I still wear (by my last glass of wine) ..that.. and black booties my stiletto-stealth— killer calves curvy beneath a biker-chick leather garter; silver-trinket-links draping my thigh celebrate their oneness with my movements with ‘glass-clink’ chinks and champagne-bubble-glints s-p-a-r-k-s—e-l-e-c-t-r-i-c my angelic sinful wink flashes neath lush lashes in candlelight I leave the dining-room-dance-floor leading him by the white-hot boa to the mango-French-kiss of my pink bed