to constantly want someone with everything you are is a burning desire compared to passion deep with in your soul something burns so bright so ferocious and furious despite the warnings you recieve deep in your heart you know its not lust but something much deeper it squeezes the air right out of your lungs it makes the hair stand on your neck it makes your knees feel week and want to buckle its the need of a soft body the rush of a hard chess pressed against the softness of my breast the hot passionate whispers the tender caresses the tingling of your warm tongue against the nape of my neck the pondering hands so big and yet so soft willing and searching for a way to stroke my fires granting all favors big and small not letting an inch of skin exscape your mounting passions of sexual hunger that is my constant passion.
