You know what I like?
Easy conversation. Especially with one of “them.” After 11. When you’re not quite “there” yet, but you know you’re on your way. When you save his call for last, because you like him to hear the day’s anticipation in your voice. And your voice is low, and his voice is low, and you’re talking about…your favorite cartoon. But you’re saying it in a way that indicates a future plan to watch that cartoon…in your room…after you’ve woken up…naked…if he plays is cards right.
My favorite part of the male form is that groove in the arm, where the deltoid ends, and the biceps and brachialis begin. Like that space was made specifically for my fingers to grip as we, um, watch cartoons.
I love gratuitous and unnecessary whispering. Something that could have been announced from the podium, but we choose to share only with one another. Just enough for cologne or perfume to graze the olfactory senses, and not one moment longer.
I want the act of hand-holding to be both erotic and deliberate; fingers that start by brushing against the back of my wrists, slowly enveloping the entirety of my hand, with fingers gently butterfly-kissing the center of my hand.
I enjoy occasionally denying my id. There’s something about occasionally being left wanting, that makes the realization of your desire that much sweeter. There are things in this life that are worth waiting for. Letting your mouth water for one more moment, so that the meal is that much tastier. Cutting a kiss short just by just one second, because you want the next one to be that much more “umph.” Whew.
Yeah y’all. It’s like “that” today.