And I will not apply a salve.
The memory is so fresh, it aches.
The words resonate through me like a bow against a string. Continue reading
We talk and compete and verbally spar. We talk about running game on others and each other–the art of it, as it were.
We flirt. How rare to flirt with with your partner… to make the blood boil to make the pulse rise. We flirt.
It becomes tense. Intense. His voice drops octaves, my thighs clench. I bite my lips.
He threatens an evening of true seduction. I counter threaten. We make plans in a loose and noncommittal way.
The hour grows later. The talk grows more serious. The desire rises.
Impact play. Continue reading