it's fucking sweltering.
the dense humid air, ripe and full. the teasing promise of rain and agonisingly long days of lethargy.
in this heaviness and sticky weight, all i can think of is sex.
the moist air of sleepy breath. the damp pockets of skin between shoulders or below collars. the hot weight of a limb thrown carelessly across my body.
fuck me.
1 comment:
i have booked my ticket. am offically coming! july 8-18th. flying in and out of heathrow.
plan your holiday time at work now.
i told elizabeth we'd have to figure something out so that i can see you. what do you think we should do?
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