Lust in C minor

His hands, lean and weathered caressed her sleek body with long, lustful strokes. Gliding over the soft planes and sloping valleys of her length, arching into her as he leaned over her smooth, supple frame and whispered intimate words of adoration, hushed and knowing.

His eyes took in the splendid beauty before him, penetrating her with his loving gaze.

He sighed, long, low, feral as she purred beneath his expert touch, smiling as he sought that special spot he knew only he could touch. He admired her beneath his fingers, glowing, writhing, glimmering in the light of the moon of pale butter.

He reveled in the rush of pure adrenaline she brought as he thought of mounting her, his thighs wrapped around her body, plunging from great heights and driving her to unknown depths.

She was all things to him. The embodiment of freedom. The epitome of a lust that scorched his senses and gripped his soul, touching every nerve, setting it ablaze with an uncontrollable passion he couldn't deny.

His heartbeat grew rapid, throbbing against his ribs as though it might tear from his chest. He fought this crazed lust that overtook him each time he saw her. The rampant need that welled in him like the raging, furious incoming tide. The need that screamed, take her -- now -- without thought nor care for her wishes.

His anticipation grew, yet he sought to coax her to his will, soothe yet another gentle purr of satisfaction from her before taking her, claiming her as his own. Pressing her until she acknowledged he was her master -- she, his mistress, from now until the end of all time.

Or at least until Suzuki comes out with another model of dirtbike he likes better.

LOLLOLLOLLOL

Yeah, R worked on his bike tonight and I watched and listened to Barry Manilow after we had dinner together (hence the C minor thing, LOLLOL).

Dude's, he's got it BAD and I think I got some competition.

ROFLMAO

Dakota :)