Snoogie Woogie

I love to snuggle. To answer the question that must surely be rising in your (possibly) brainwashed brains, I am a possessor of a penis.

With that out of the way, let me tell you about several hours that I spent with a lovely lady this past Wednesday.

Wake up. School. Pick her up. Home. Lay down.

Early day is, while not routine, progressed with the quickness associated with the aforementioned. Laying down upon a mattress however, completely changes the entire world. As my head pushes into the pillow, I am instantly reminded of a slow motion, black and white, indie motion picture. Seeing double from being so close to her face, which lay on the same maroon pillow, the room is away somewhere that we are not. The moment in which we now hover between sleep and wakefulness. Our eyes close and open without regularity and breaths slow, as if wishing to hibernate.
We lay and kissed quietly and slowly; Perceptions and actions moved like we were laying on the ocean floor, especially with the lights out.
Arms slide around each other, sliding over our shirts and pants in an utterly non-desperate attempt to be as close to one another as is physically possible that was, as well, inevitable. We press our lips together in long exchanges of breath.

Time was a child and we had given the youth a nickel and the directions to the farthest cinema. Left alone, four hours ghosted by in our dream-state so when the young boy returns with left-over popcorn it is seven o' clock and the window, whose shades made the light of day amorphous suggests dusk.

Grogginess and semi-closed eyes need to be rejuvenated by sudden realization that we've been laying in bed, moving minimally, kissing, hugging, whispering "I [blank] yous" and snuggling.

Go outside. Drive her home. Drive back home alone. Sleep.