Cantar De Procella

The heat.
His low voice whispering in my ear, speaking of primordial, archaic desires. I rapidly feel the world around me spin out of focus,leaving only the rough velvet that's his voice, expressing his lust and need. My mind tries to hinder me,bringing on thoughts of caution and pace. "Keep the pace...". I hear it,take note, then shun it.Soon enough I'm lost in the vertigo his fiery words bring upon me each and every time.The way he makes me feel...Beyond desired, beyond wanted. Worshipped, appreciated,cherished. A man who relishes in devouring each and every inch of my body, again and again, his insatiable hunger for me fueling us both.No need to talk, no need to explain,all it takes is a single look. A single look and our bodies know what to do,moving together in a graceful dance that leaves us both panting, gasping, sweating. Ah, to hear him...Words cannot describe the rush, the deep,animalistic satisfaction I feel when I hear his deep voice catching in his throat,his breathing heavy,his voice even rougher.And the look in his eyes...when in wild abandon he allows me to have a part of himself,when all he wants is to coil his arms around me after the climax and hold me against his chest as if I'm the most valuable thing in his life, just holding on tight, not letting go...

He's coming here.
And this time...