Taboo Play at the Park: A Photo Series (2/45)

I flutter from man to man. Seeing them all as temporary, random events.
Sometimes, I fall on short dressed knees, on park benches at their feet, or on sparse grassed ground.

So, unlike a tree.  They promise to be there...
Till they are not.

But, they change their names to log cabins, picket fences, paper.
These things bare down the hands of man.

What a long path to find the hands of man.

Among the trees, I find him.

I gently caress his back tickled by his bristles.

I want to sit at his bare feet with my back against his tree and my mouth waiting.

But, today is just about looking.

His fruit of the loom weaves sweet skinned, forbidden.

I want to rub his belly for luck.
I want him to rub me.

I want to play his viola all the way to his...

A new sweet friend.

Shy and wonderful.

Thank you D for such a fun time at the park today.  I appreciate you letting me take your photos. :)