Shape /S/H/I/F/T/E/R/

Concerned with my pain the old shoulder acting up again you sit astride my back as if I were a horse cluck the reins press your heels in as if they were spurs & tell me giggly to giddy up “What happened the massage? ” I neigh. “Oh yes! ” Your nakedness slides up & down my back the moistness of your sex burning into my skin. “Is that good? ” Your fingers probe. I moan. Then moan again. Glancing in the mirror I see me like a snail & you my shell & now I the octopus in the Japanese erotic print DREAM OF THE FISHERMAN’S WIFE both of us joined now at the hip & lip softly becoming something else