He breathes in me the breath of vitality. Giving me anticipation of changing residence from the inhibited address that I own, to a more desirable zip code on the side of town known for sexually living.
He makes me feel primal.
In a way I don’t quite totally understand. Yet, I welcome.
His words are sadistic to me as I read them. Their very existence DEMANDS I lean my head to the side and twirl my hair in my fingertips as I uncontrollably bite my bottom lip–like the innocent whore that I am.
I’m a virgin–to his type of seduction.
Untouched by his type of romance.
Pure–in owning an unbusted cherry to man of his caliber.
Everything in his aura gives me butterflies. I can’t help but smell him through my computer screen. And as I inhale, with the lustful nostrils of a virgin ready to taste the side of life that they have been missing; my heart skips a beat when I think of him and at the prospect of giving myself away, at least in that regard; like it was the very first time.