Prayer

He’s circumcised but not excessively so; when relaxed but one-third of the head peeks out from beneath a wonderfully soft fold of skin.

This of all his features is the one upon which I fixated.  We were seated in a crowded classroom where the teacher spoke from the back.  I sat on the floor of the first row.  When I turned to see the teacher I was delighted to be nose to knee with him and in possession of the most extraordinary view of his bid’ness.

My eyes couldn’t stay off of it.  He sat naked and perfectly at ease in a room full of people listening to the droning of the teacher.  Or not.  At one point she paused and asked for the omnipresent murmuring please to quiet down.  It did momentarily, but as soon as she again began to speak the noise level rose until my attention was wrenched away from my partner’s cock and onto the rude whisperers.

I rose and walked back to them.  I demanded that they hold their impertinent tongues while the teacher spoke.  They looked at me with no comprehension and went right back to talking.  He embraced me when I returned to my place.  “You were brave to confront them,” he whispered, and then we were all called to rise for prayer.

Do not question the dreaming logic of saying prayers in a crowded classroom with my naked partner behind me.  Only try to imagine how it felt as all heads lowered reverentially, leaving us in virtual seclusion.  Imagine how his arms went around me and his hands cupped my breasts.  Imagine his softness growing hard against my backside, and him sliding up the skirt I suddenly realized I was wearing, and the feeling of wet skin moving resolutely toward more wet skin even as the prayer turned into one of overwhelming thankfulness to their god and I felt my dream heart swelling up with the very same gratitude.

Imagine my disappointment when suddenly I woke up alone in bed with no one pressed resolutely into me.  Nevertheless, the feeling of his body has stayed with me all day.  And so has the gratitude.