patsey

How do I explain it?

How do I want him?

The muscled shoulders and stubbled chin.

That funky smell of aftershave and sweat.

The large unyielding hands and the arms that conquer.

The sinew and muscle and burning eyes.

To yield – to be conquered – to be taken in bliss.

To be held – to be kissed – to feel the strongly tender touch.

To taste and be tasted – to call forth the god.

To be split and filled and taken – to ride and drive him to the edge.

To feel the wracking jerk of consummation – the hot flow of his deepest gift.

To be strong in my weakness – to conquer with my surrender – to own what is his.

To know that in being his – he becomes mine.