Natalie

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"Oh, sweetheart. Mmmm, that's sooo good. Yes . . . do that again, just like that. Ooh, I know. I know you want to, baby. And of course I do too. But not yet, honey. Not just yet. It's so perfect like this, isn't it? Just like this. Let's do this, only this, a little bit more. You know it'll be so much better if we just take it slow . . . don't you want it to be better?"

And you know what happens next. That wait goes a little longer. And then even a little longer. Soon, you're nearly delirious with wanting and need.

Sound familiar? Ah, but more important . . . sound delicious?

It does, doesn't it? Spending hours (that pass like minutes) making out with a woman who's gotten under your skin . . . in a way you can't remember a woman ever having done before. Being touched, teased, and (almost) pleased by this woman you crave so much, you'll do just about anything to please her. Even, yes, waiting (and waiting and waiting) to come, if that's what she wants. If that's what I want.

And you secretly love it. Which is glorious, because so do I. It arouses me beyond belief to give the two of us that unforgettable, aching experience, over and over. You'll be kept panting for just that sweet little bit longer than you believe you can handle, teetering right on that breathless edge.

Maybe we'll start out slow, with just glimpses, a brush of the fingertips, and that first quickening of your heartbeat, that first tingling down below. Or maybe instead, we'll get right into it, both of us nearly overcome by our desire. Though even then, you'll know (always) that it's going to be me who decides just how far we get.

And the most amazing part, all the while, is that somehow, you don't want to be anywhere else. You're right where you want to be, caught up in my taste and scent, in my intoxicating yet elusive presence. You start to wish yourself that it would go on forever.

Welcome to my world.