It begins on this night.
It begins on this night with a word, with a look.
It begins with one syllable, more growled exhalation than utterance coherently spoken, released from your lips in a way that ignites the crisp air hanging low, that has me struggling to contain my desire, my need to reach out and merge this soft, slippery heat, that has my lithe form silently trembling, betraying every craving on its surface, every passion deep within, my heart pounding hard against my breast, my nipples straining at the cups of the ebony lace, yearning for your kiss to trace, to taste, to take hold and feast.
It begins with your gaze dark and molten, with the savage, rapacious carnality that penetrates this sexual soul to the core, that unveils this flesh for you and you alone, sliding off the weight of the velvet shielding my scant nakedness, compelling my hand to snake its way down the tautness of my belly, down the skin prickled and aching to the lattice of silk already sodden, to the darkening fabric and liquid lust scorching the skin of my smooth mound, this breath sharply taken as my delicate fingers ease away the threads to expose my gleam to the light, to your sight, to tease the clitoris scarlet and throbbing, sinking with a moan and a whimper into the hot, clutching depths that will soon be perfected by your thick, hard, voracious cock.
It begins with the fever, with the need in our bones, with the hunger screaming for the blood and the pulse and the skin and the heat of the other, with the crazed awareness of the futility of resistance, with the knowledge this passion will live and feed and transfigure, with the knowledge this moment will endure, will never truly end.
It begins on this night. It all begins on this night.
© Cheeky Minx