I want nothing more this morning than to kiss. To feel the press of warm lips, at turns insistent and yielding upon my own. To dance the mutable dance of variable pressures, first soft as gossamer, gentle as breath; now emphatically taking and being taken, the convergence of assertive will and urgent surrender. To switch roles as leader and led without terms, without negotiation, and without pause. Just being, sharing, tasting, exploring, and feeling each other as one, lost and found in the pleasurable indulgence of lubricious desire.
I need to talk to my writers. Because cold coffee is hardly an acceptable substitute for this.