That Primitive Desire
I miss a girl's body, her skin is like soft, tender, dainty, warmness. Her perfume is her nectar scent of a fine creature, makes my knees quiver and mouth thirsty. She wants me as I want her, wrap my arms around her beautiful waist, so soft, my head feasting at her shoulders and neck gently, smelling her fine aromas. Having that mere skin on skin contact, through a slight accidental arm to arm rub, or daydreaming of massaging her feet, legs, making my way into her beautiful lips below and she welcoming, allowing it, such a want from her part, and I lenient to her every intimate and leisure desire. Passion upon passion upon passion upon passion, till we are numb below our waist, exhausted, spent, dry, sore...and then caress our tongues together, hands feeling her breasts running down her sides, her thighs, her butt, and her hands running down and up my body till we sleep, where still our hearts silently emit that fire, burning desire of each other.