Be the warmth, be the breath, be the kiss on my soft lips, be the mouth swallowing my rapture, feeding from this shiny bliss.
Be the touch, be the hands, be the fingers weaving through these tresses, be the body I reach out for, the flesh pressed against my suppleness.
Be the smoke, the flame, the fire, be possession and surrender, be the one who gives and takes with softness, lightness, with hard, deep, growling intent.
Be the brave, the unafraid, the being you yearn and need to be, the easy and the intricate, the erotic and the carnal, be that man with me.
Be my junk, be my jones, be my everlasting addiction, the obsession that shatters, slays, destroys me, the passion that revives, refines, perfects.
Be the throb, the ache, the pain, be the cure, the panacea, be my relief, be my remedy, be my medicine.
And I’ll be yours.
6 comments:
Let it be.
Beautiful....
If there could be, a more inviting proposition, then I should like to hear it.
To fondle your tresses, these hands can only dream.
Os: Indeed.
Max: Thank you so much...
both.hands.please: Right now, the thought of your dreaming hands soothes and sates, bhp...
"Be the brave, the unafraid, the being you yearn and need to be, "
Knowing that you want him to be brave should give him all the courage he needs.
While I'm fairly certain that isn't the case, I'm so humbled and grateful you think so, A...
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