Press Further

Crammed in the backseat our legs finally touch.
The warmth our sweaty and smoky denim produces makes my heart palpitate.
Music bellows through the broken car stereo, residue of whiskey on my breath, I press my leg further.
Feverishly, I close my eyes.
He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, travelling down to my waist pulling me into him.
Our naked bodies contour to each other, becoming one.
The car door closes, the young man stumbles down his street.
I laugh, inhale, cheeks burning as the car descends to another town, away from him.
My senses were awakened and pleasured by the friction of our denim.