Italiana
Menu
It was that twilight hour. Two in the morning. The point when our minds seek dark and dirty things as if was candy. With the hot, muggy night that was, the fireworks that dazzled above over the last few hours only left sparkles of excitement on your subconscious. What burned now was your imagination. . . and what I was leading you toward.
We made it home safe after the show. A couple of beer bottles now sat empty, guarding the door to your backyard. We sit, side by side on a patio couch, close to one another. You smell the faint aroma of some body spray - Axe? You aren't sure what kind - and it's teasing you. Your mind is already in the gutter, imagining me on top of you, shirtless, smelling my body as I am plunging into your soaking wet--
My hand finds your abdomen, touching you through your shirt. Your fantasy broken, but replaced with another one. You had been thinking about later tonight since we first met. The time when I told you how much I loved to give pleasure, using my fingers and lips to tease the most powerful orgasms from you over and over again.
