Shoot Ropes

In my dream, you stood in front of a mirror. You were shirtless, in jeans only as you stood before the full-length mirror. The hair on your chest called to me as I coveted you with my eyes. Your hair grew thicker as it arrowed towards the fly of your jeans, beckoning my eyes, my hands to follow and explore. My heart began to pound as I stepped behind you and met your eyes in the mirror.

Shoot Ropes By David McLaren