a.funnytimeofyear.com

. . . but when it is you - oh you - I have melted into your kisses, your slender hips. We have snaked ourselves in utopia’s breath, the raw splendor of each other’s vapidity. We are a mixture of fragrances that intermingle, swirling in ecstacy as we condense with the scent of each other’s skin. I could overdose on the sense of your soft touch, its wet tounge that slithers over my nipples, hands smoothing themselves along and down my inner thighs. This feeling, a flux of flutters that curl and throb in my solar plexus. A whirlwind cocooned and yet bursting with sweet effervescence. . .