fountain.
Snapshot of moonlight and candlelight on alabaster and alabaster skin. Droplets of water and droplets of light that intermingle in water and sky as do two writhing bodies in a pool of dangerous spontaneity. Sparkle on pale flesh silent except for the resounding spash of water against body against mattress against time. Nothing except for the lubricious flow from one form to the next, from an ankle to a thigh to the back of a neck. And a cupid's frozen movement as liquid music plays from his alabaster horn from his alabaster hands as softer hands touch softest warmth and metallic eyes reflect in the broken surface of the water.
Snapshot of moonlight and candlelight on alabaster and alabaster skin. Droplets of water and droplets of light that intermingle in water and sky as do two writhing bodies in a pool of dangerous spontaneity. Sparkle on pale flesh silent except for the resounding spash of water against body against mattress against time. Nothing except for the lubricious flow from one form to the next, from an ankle to a thigh to the back of a neck. And a cupid's frozen movement as liquid music plays from his alabaster horn from his alabaster hands as softer hands touch softest warmth and metallic eyes reflect in the broken surface of the water.
Is that the one where you're suspended from a ceiling fan while the midgets in lederhosen jump on a trampoline and smack you ass with tennis rackets?