Falling Into Her. A Park, A Body, A Rhythm

We met after work.

She brought a rug.

I brought a body full of ache.

We laid under a tree as the sun fell behind us,

talking in half-sentences,

laughing,

touching.

And then the kissing began.

Slow.

Rhythmic.

The kind that pulls you under.

That makes the world blur.

Her lips on mine.

My hands already seeking skin

before I was aware I’d moved.

Buttons undone.

The grip of her thighs.

The way she looked at me with that mix of

lust and worry

as strangers passed behind us,

as the water lapped gently nearby,

as the city forgot we were there.

But my body remembered.

I pressed my face to her neck.

My nose circled hers,

like clouds gliding past one another

soft, wordless,

felt more than seen.

She climbed onto me.

Top open.

Skin warm.

My hand tracing her stomach like it was sacred.

I didn’t want to fuck.

I wanted to feel.

To melt.

To move into her.

To disappear inside the rhythm of us.

And later, when I left

her scent still on my jacket,

my mouth still tingling,

my hands still electric

I knew:

This moment would live on in my body.

Not because it was wild.

But because it was real.

Present.

Unapologetically ours.