(It’s not always about love)

Let’s connect.
Let me feel and taste you while we figure this thing out.
Let me know the insides of your mind while I fantasize about the possibilities of us.
Let me go out on a limb and just take advantage of your sexual drive.
What’s wrong with that?
What’s wrong with wanting something for this moment – this singular time and just enjoying it?
Why make it complicated?
Why not take chances and go by the thrills and the pulls of our inner selves?
Isn’t that the beauty of this?
Isn’t all that we want just a few open touches away from this?
I want you to open me up.
Tear me apart and invade my comfort space.
I want to feel you rippling through my mind as my days take pace.
I want you to teach me to use my mind like a tongue.
This tool that will lick every inch of you and enjoy the sensations that it pulls.
I’ll teach you more.
I’ll teach you how to revere my body like a shrine.
I’ll teach you to respect every crevice that’s mine.
Oh, you’ll like it.
You’ll love every minute of it.
And you’ll crave…
We’ll both crave.
And that’s the beauty of it.
This urge, this thing that drives us to be our unfathomed selves,
Damn…
If only.
If only we could connect.
If only we could feel and taste each other while we figure things out.
If only we could let each other get to know the insides of our minds and enjoy fantasizing about the possibilities of us.
If only we could go out on a limb and just enjoy our sexual drives…
What’s wrong with that?
What’s wrong with that?!