I'm a textures person.
Velvet, silk, running water. Bare feet in sand, ballpoint pens on stacks of paper.
It's no surprise that I love feeling your skin on mine.
Have you noticed?
Our hands never stay still – my thumb is always rubbing your knuckles. When we hug, my fingertips sneak inside your shirt to your bare chest. I lean in to kiss your face and end up rubbing my lips down your neck.
Skin on skin.
I can't get enough.
I hate how "sex" became watered down to an act. That there's so much focus on the climax or the duration or how "hot" it is. It fetishizes something that is so intimate, so beautiful, so divine.
Skin in skin.
I couldn't even imagine.
You feel so good already, just holding hands feels like foreplay.