“Lucky rolled me on my tummy, kneeled between my thighs, reached for the bottle of J-Lube on our bedside table next to the Arts and Crafts copper-based stained glass lamp, filled her cupped palm with lube, and pushed herself inside of me, the cold lube cooling me down. Two fingers, three, four filled my cunt with Lucky hunched over me growling her way inside of me. I buried my face in my feather pillow, turning my head so I could breathe and moaned as she fucked me leisurely, oh to be filled with Lucky. The first two lines of Walt Whitman’s poem, “We Two Boys Together Clinging” ran through my head as Lucky twisted and turned her gardener’s fist inside my soaking wet cunt, with my legs shaking and her grunting in rhythm with my hips. “We boys together clinging, One the other never leaving” and we were together as my cunt muscles spasmed around her hand, holding her tightly. Holding her hand tightly with my cunt, I came in a rush of need and love.” – from Doily Is My Safeword