Your voice changes when I turn you on. Sometimes a growl, sometimes a lovely hum, it tells me immediately when you want me.
You want me.
It has been so long now.
I want you.
I remember the smooth freckled skin covering your taut body, your strength–my weakness to resist you. I like to resist you, though, and I like it when you win. I like to let you have me for whatever you like–and then to watch you surrender yourself, you lying back and urging me to climb on top of you, urging me to tell you all the filthy things I have been thinking and doing while you fuck me harder, still harder.
I remember, maintaining abstraction now in your absence so that my sanity remains intact. I remember, and still my imagination soars, to the infinite possibilities for experimenting still more, for expanding desire.