The anticipation of you fucking me, heavy and sweet like a caramel toffee melting on my tongue, is nearly as pleasurable as the act itself. My eager, vivid little imagination conjures up such steamy images, sweet sensations of your body meeting mine, of you being received by me. I can almost feel your hardness swelling into my lush wetness. All that is solid in you dissolving into my ocean of desire, a sugar cube dissolving into a frothy cappuccino. My self-consciousness, my awkward nature…everything that makes me panic vanishing under your long, graceful fingers. Under your lips. Under your hot breath. Under the silent weight of you. My shyness smudged away under your big eraser. Big eraser of heartache. Big, hard anesthesia making me forget everything I dislike in myself. There will only be enough room for your stiff, throbbing urgency and for me, that will be more than enough.
My only wish is that our carnal union makes you even half as happy as it makes me.