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One more time
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I get goosebumps everytime I imagine taking you up on your offer-- you giving me a new notion of sticky buns. I want to know more, all the dirty details of what you'd be willing to do. I see us at a cafe table sharing tales and revisiting stories; coyly dismissing a random sexy, suggestive comment, but that already flowing blood would start circulating more rapidly and collecting in all the important parts. There would then be transparent, meaningless babble intended to steer away from the lustful cravings. More nervous laughter. Later you'd show me around town with fantasies boiling, trying to decide if you should make your move, shaking at the vision of surrendering yourself, or licking your chops and dominating me instead. Would we reach a point of wet, strong, animalistic fucking until we were raw and weak in the knees, or would we just say goodbye?
Posted 9:36 AM | 0 replies
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