This.

This perfection of form.

This object of my desire.

I run my hands over your curves;

For how many years have I wanted this?

How many times have I dreamt of this moment?

Holding you.

Touching you.

My touch elicits sound.

Music.

A long, low moan.

A chord, a symphony.

So long have you been out of reach,

That which completes me.

I hold you in my arms,

I wrap you around me,

My arms enfold your body,

And the music we make,

Perfection.

This is all I desire.

This.

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Ian Sharman

Ian is a freelance writer and artist. He founded Orang Utan Comics Studio with Peter Rogers in 2006, writes for their Eagle Award Nominated anthology Eleventh Hour and regularly inks for Panini’s Marvel Heroes comic.

Latest posts by Ian Sharman (see all)

• How the War Began - 30/12/15
• Prince Of Peace - 22/12/15
• Cogito Ergo Sum - 25/08/15
• Hayfever’s End - 17/08/15
• Regrets? I’ve Had A Few - 14/08/15