When I first met you…in the flesh…I couldn’t stop touching you. The urge to feel your skin…your hands…your arms…your face…your lips. I wanted to touch you. Even feeling the warmth of your lips so very close to mine…sensing your touch…a powerful sensation. Not only did I want to touch you, I wanted your hands on me. I recall moving your hands across my body…to my throat…to my cheek…to my lips…even on my breasts. Wanting to touch you and wanting to be touched by you is instinctual, communicative, primal, chemical, and one of the most powerful forms of intimacy.

My touch always soft to you unless I’m overcome with bliss from your hands on me…my hands in your hair gripping as you make me come for you. Your hands on me…your touch strong claiming what’s yours…and soft as you remind me how you treasure me.

You speak to me with your touch…strong, fierce, passionate, adoring, inquisitive, care, desiring. My touch tells you my adoration, longing, respect, passion, care, and ache for you. You know my mind…my heart…my body…You understand me and captured me…first with my mind…confirmed with your touch. I’ve learned you…your mind…I know your heart…your body…further realized with my touch.

When You and I touch, we write the same language…read the same unspoken words…communicate a comprehension exclusive to us…
It’s beautiful ❤️💋💋

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