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er.
The electricity crackles. Anticipation brittle between us until the
moment we touch. Lips meet. Lips brush cheeks, brush eyes, caress
necks. Hands run through hair, caress shoulders, rove backs.
Your laser-blue eyes set me on a slow burn. Your hand strokes my
cheek. You gather my hair between your fingers. Pull me to you.
The honey-hot vortex inside me screams to me that I have to get next
to you. I am consumed. My clothes a pile on the floor, I am unaware
of how I am suddenly naked in your arms, skin brushes skin, writhing
in tantalizing rhythms as I grab your arms, pull them around me. I
knead your sinewy thighs as we grind gently, lose our balance, yield
to the bed the obeisance it requires.
My hands brush your chest, stroke the strong, flat lobes, dawdle down
the soft valley of your torso. Your hips fascinate me, and I caress
then kiss their jutting promontories. My teeth graze them and you
moan. My mouth moves over to your side and I take the skin between my
teeth and bite, gently, sucking, gnawing. You move away from me, and
our eyes lock as I raise my head. Mine are laval, burgundy, curiously
slow and sultry. I smile. You are stunned and speechless. I push
you
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