It’s the thought of your kiss light upon each inch of my fair skin, your fingers easing away the straps and lace and cashmere, your lips whispering deep the words of adoration and need, your beard grazing the tremble of my soft thighs, your mouth worshiping the sighing ache of my scarlet desire, the carnal pulse of your flesh bringing me to my knees, my tongue devouring with greed, the possession hard and glistening and profound, the gaze all-seeing, all-knowing and yet somehow arcane, the man ideal, the veiled soul, the lover whose subtleties and complexities, whose primal urgencies and lingering sensualities even now feel just like home.
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