Passion

I really want a lover that burns with passion. I want to see the fire in his eyes when he looks at me from across the room. I want to taste his desire for me in the firmness of his kiss, and feel the weight of what we are going to do together as he paws at my body.

I want to be consumed in his energy as we enfold each other. I want to be driven mad by the scent of his lust for me, and hear him scream in the throws of passion.

I want to lose control together.

If I don't drive you mad with desire to the point where you almost cream your jeans with every sight, sound, touch, taste, and smell of me, then I'm not interested.

I won't do the work for you. I shouldn't have to. We should both be so consumed with passion for each other that we both will do anything to be together, closer, pinning and pawing, embracing and rocking, wishing we could turn each other inside out just to experience the inner depths of each other.

If you're a lazy lover who can't let go, can't show me how you feel with all five of your senses, then put your clothes back on and go home.

You deserve better, and so do I.