One word, one word that you send scuttling into my mind. A singular moment in time when you consume my every thought as they pump furiously round my body circling, circling, closing in on the swelling bud that waits impatiently to be stroked into oblivion. Oh how I can taste your desire in your every word and your lust in your every need. Oh how I feel the essence of your passion spilling through each stroke, through each rise, through each orgasmic rush that teasingly trickles through my every muscle, settling upon my skin for hours to come. The gentle hint of a moments fun.
Karen Hayward ©2016