Her heart beats against mine.
I am enraptured by her heat.
I am intoxicated by the smell of her hair; the flow of it across my brow is mesmerizing.
Smooth sweaty hot.
The pulse quickens.
Her breath upon my ear is hurried.
I am one with her word:
Enchilada!
3 comments:
I wanted to read the rest of your post, but it started getting all squiggly and all I could get was the audio. Pity.
Dude... if your enchilada's got hair enough to smell, send it back. Really.
Hadn't heard it called an enchilada before.
Post a Comment