One for the bank

Geraldine hadn’t had sex for six years until the afternoon she met Harvey.

Barely a word had been spoken before the two pounced on each other like animals.

Geraldine clutched Harvey’s penis and went to lower to her knees,
But Harvey removed her hand, kissed her neck and whispered:
“Today is about you.”

As she lay on her back
Harvey complimented Geraldine’s wrinkles,
And gently caressed each and every curve of her ageing flesh,
Claiming her skin belonged to a goddess.

Harvey defied his 19 years and used his tongue in ways Geraldine could barely dream of.
He nuzzled on her breasts as his fingers danced between her legs.

Geraldine’s back formed an arch and goosebumps began to stir.
She knew her time was coming to an end so she moaned and scratched and begged to feel Harvey.

He soon obliged.

All the colours of the rainbow shot around her eyes as Harvey,
Tender, but firm,
Rolled back the years for her.

Flashbacks of hot pants, peace symbols, bouncing headboards and the Beatles rang inside Geraldine’s head.
Her awoken body tightened
And tightened
And tightened before the two of them exploded into a flurry of shooting stars.

Geraldine clung on to Harvey, her breath becoming a pant.
She leant in and went to thank him,
Before the crash of Harvey’s till
Startled her.

Harvey smiled politely as he
Slid the last item into her bag.

Geraldine nodded, grabbed her shopping and
Headed to the bank.

© Carl Burkitt 2013

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