Amo/Amas/Amat/Amamus

 and I miss the moment right before we touch, that millisecond before our skin makes any contact. Like skimming your hand above water, inching closer and closer until you break the surface. Your lips on mine, we’re underwater and we can’t breathe. We grasp onto eachothers necks, entangle our fingers in masses of hair. We need air, we need tongue, we need an outlet of all of this fucking lust that has been built up and stacked upon by dirty movies and sexy movie stars. The fuse that had been ignited by that look that you may have or may not have actually noticed that you sent my way. The crackling of the fuze sparkling softly, mimicked by the brush of our arms, our legs, our clothed parts that we really, really wish were not.

I miss the way your fingertips seemed to sear into my skin, carving tracks along my torso as you slide my shirt up. The way you pause at my nipples and give them the attention you know that I love. The way your skin seems to radiate nothing but pure sexuality, your entire body cast aglow with this. Fucking. That very moment in which you enter me, when we finally break the surface and suddenly I’m gasping for the air I’ve been starved of. The way that your light eyes burn darker and darker and darker with every single thrust. The air isn’t enough and I pant harder and harder and then out of nowhere a huge wave comes and shoves my head back underwater. I’m caught mid-gasp and I gulp in nothing but mouthfuls of molten pleasure. It pulsates throughout my entire body, and right now I can’t think of a single fucking thing.

The best part is that you could be anybody in the entire world. 

I am so sexually frustrated OH. MY. GOD.