The Blue Moon was like nothing I’d ever tasted. A craft beer cut with orange and coriander that lacerated my tongue, in a similar way to her blue eyes’ effect on my weary soul. She was unlike anyone I’d ever tasted before. Her tender then probing, deep reaching kiss, lit a fire in my loins as hot as her words had done in my heart.
I was held in thrall, as she sat atop my sprawling body, both of us wrapped in motel bed sheets damp with our mingled juices. She looked down upon me, our skins hot and clamorous. Tired from our fucking exertions, holding a Blue Moon; its glass body wreathed in a sweat of condensation. The expression her beautiful face held was one of knowing self satisfaction. Her pink bra hung languidly from one shoulder, as she took another swig. The metallic clanging of a night train filtered through our window…
Darkgingerbread 