I thought I was not a regular squirter.
But, with this additional highlight, we can both see.
It has sprayed everywhere.
The raspberry rippled puddle on the failed protection of the towel,
A splatter pattern on the surrounding sheet,
Both pairs of hands and the tulip, stained red and tacky.
Crimson finger-printed contusions on my thighs and butt cheeks.
Our matching go-faster stripes from belly to groin.
Pubic hair sticky and matted.
The scene of an axe murder.
CSI would be having a field day.
And this is what defines us.
Where perhaps, in other circumstances, we might wait until another day.
Needs must…





























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