A one night stand. A quickie in a dark corridor. Bang-bang, off you go, thank you, see you again or maybe rather not. And now imagine considering a quickie and ending up having full-on sex for like two hours. Non-stop. Hot and sweaty, soaking in all kinds of bodily fluids, going through myriads mental states, ups and downs, flowing with it, enjoying, giving and taking as much as humanly possible on a roller coaster of lust.
And then, you're getting there. The waves of warmth are getting stronger, heartbeats through the roof, you're pushing harder and harder, you can feel the sensational finish just around the corner.
And then you come.
Yet there is no sex involved.
A personal record in f-words uttered then melting away in the bath, enjoying a margarita and a very Tony Montanesque mood.
Could I be talked into it again? Fuck yeah.
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