I think of a shower; of coming out with a clean body and dirty mind; of taking your hand as I lead you to my bed; of rubbing your body dry with my towel; of grasping your cock in my hand and coaxing it into life; of laying you in my bed and hugging you to ward off the cold.

We kiss, at first tender, lip-nibbling kisses as I pull you close; then your mouth opens and my tongue explores this new territory, as a blind man memorises a face. My hand tickles your neck and I kiss you behind the ear, running my tongue down to your throat, where I bite your skin, raising a red mark.

You shiver and hold my hold my head as my tongue continues over your chin and back to your mouth. Your hand is running up and down my spine, fingernails dragging politely on my flesh. I feel excitement building up inside me as you cup my small breast in your hand; it fits easily within your palm and your thumb moves over my nipple, now erecting.

You circle my areola with thumb and forefinger, round and back, round and back, until you break off the kiss to run your tongue down over my neck to greet my nipple. Your tongue mimics the motion of your finger and thumb, round and back, round and back, flicking over the nipple as it stands out for attention. You suck, at first gently, then more urgently, on this emblem of sexuality, and grip it in your teeth, sucking anew.

Your hand moves onto my thigh, down to my knee, and you graze your knuckles back up to my waist. Still with your knuckle, you caress my inner thigh, up and down, gradually working around until your palm is flat on my skin, exploring its softness, feeling its warmth.

You begin to suck on my right breast, moving your hand up to my belly; it expands and contracts with my breath as you coax a second nipple into arousal. I shift my weight on to my left side and your mouth fills with my breast, before slipping downwards again to my stomach.

I can see your erect cock, engorged and purple, as your tongue lingers momentarily on my belly button: I know where you're going next. Pulling onto your knees, you grip my sides and descend into the light bush of my pussy. You inhale the aroma and open your mouth...

My pussy lips are moist to your touch, offering you a tantalising foretaste of later pleasures; your tongue lightly brushes first one, then the other, then both as it begins to penetrate the inner folds of my desire. Your tongue on my soft flesh is coarse but tender; my pussy is sticky and fragrant, my juices beginning to flow, and you sample some drops of my passion. You trace your mouth upwards and find my clitoris, tickling it, kissing it, sucking it, playing with its sensations. I buck and arch my back as the touch of your tongue sends a bolt of pleasure through me. My clit stands proud from its normal refuge, demanding satisfaction, attention. Your thumb discovers a wet pussy now; wet and inviting, open to your touch, sensitised and sensual. You play your tongue over my lips again, sucking them into your mouth, drawing in strands of my fluid, savouring their taste, feeling your desire mount. I want you to fuck me.

I want your cock inside me. I want to feel it moving inside me, pulsating as it slides up and down in my hot pussy. I want to feel you holding me as I grip you. You draw yourself up and ease your cock through my lips, through my folds, red and hot, and inside me; you rest on top of me for a moment and I feel your body on and in me. I look at your face as you begin to fuck me, slowly, filling me and drawing out to the tip of your cock, a steady rhythm of sex, a fuck, a ride, a passionate embrace, a union of minds and bodies, together, together, together, my love, my man. I get wetter as the tension mounts, my nipples proud, my mouth a rictus of pleasure. My breath is uneven as I rock to your roll; for this is music, music of the body, a festival of fucking, a concert of coupling, a symphony of sex. In and out. Quick and slow. Long and short. Beads of sweat form on my breast. I want you to come.

You grip my hands tightly either side of my head and push on, in. My wetness spreads over your prick, onto your balls, sliding into your groin, suffusing your pubic hair with my smell, my sex. I want you to come.

My hands are on your bum, pulling you ever closer, drawing your cock ever deeper through my slit and into me. I drag you to me and kiss your face, drawing your mouth to mine. You drink my saliva, adding to the confection of tastes in your throat. In and out. Your tongue, your cock, my mouth, my pussy. Out and in. A breath, a sigh, the fuck goes on. Cock in cunt, pussy over prick. What else need there be? I want you to come, to feel your body given over to sensation.

The beat goes on, a tattoo of sex, now more urgent, now more ardent. This is real. I sense you are getting close as you pull back; gently, rolling inside me, you massage your cock on my vaginal walls. I moan in anticipation and lock my pussy around you, raising my bum off the bed and embracing your cock. I want to come.

I shake, I throb, my whole body vibrates and shivers. I can't really feel any other part of me; nothing exists but this moment, this sensation. Still, I lock myself around your shaft while you thrust inside me. My passions overtake me, I feel only pleasure, anticipation. As I come to a climax, a fanfare of triumphant love thrilling through me, I feel your cock jerk as the spunk floods from your balls to your tip. Your body tenses against mine; I grip you with my legs, embrace you with my arms, hold you with my pussy, love you with my mind. I moan as you explode, your cock flooding its come deep inside me, deeper and deeper, desperate and fulfilled.