Very tall, very dark hair, smiling, a little cynical, very dry. When I walk next to you I feel tiny. Your eyes are blue, your lips are soft, you love films, I love anyone who's passionate about something.
You took me to your flat, one of those 'new build' sorts, completely perfect and soulless. We chatted a little and you kissed me. I'm so glad because I was getting bored of my own voice. The kissing heated. Hot coal lips, sandy hands, rubbing like a wind through the dune, cutting a line, embraced in each other, grinding hard.
Your skin was so hot, you gripped my hair tightly, moving my head, twisting my neck, pulling me away and pushing me back. We fucked desperately swapping positions a few times, enjoying the rush. I opened my mouth to take you over the edge. You were satisfied but your nerves get the better of you. I wonder why you're cheating?
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