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Take me.. here, now I don't care if the post is rough on my skin, or if it tears my shirt. I don't

care who sees, or hears because I am going to get loud. I am going to raise my whisper to a moan and

then to a yell of words that others would beg to hear. I want to coat you in my want and make you sweat.

I want to make you so weak that the post is the only reason either of us are able to stand when we

are done, and everyone else, is left with nothing to say but jealousy that they don't have what we have...

Anticipation.. the breathless waiting of what is to come. When you stand beside me and admire my body.

Your hands touching me so softly it feels like a whisper of air but it is so much more. It is the promise

of things to be, it is the raising of my heart rate and temperature, it is the building of a deep want.

One that when it is filled will leave me wrung out like a dishrag and just as wet. My hair will be a mess,

my body will glisten and I will be weak

and glowing in the aftermath...