What I Want

Skin: that is what I want to feel, what I want to taste. Soft gentle kisses trailing over silky and smooth skin. I don't care if you have stubble; your cheek is not where I want to be. On the edge of sanity is where I want to lead you, kiss by kiss. Lips teasing slowly, trailing from hip down, following the creases of your skin, letting the hair of your legs tickle my face. Glossless, my mouth bare to your flesh, I want to feel your body warm with my breath. I want to nuzzle you in your sleeping state. I want to wake you, gently, with kisses. As I go lower, deeper between your legs, I want to lick the fleshy folds supporting your cock. I want to taste you, open my mouth just enough, and suckle on that soft velvety skin. I want to take my time and explore every inch before moving back up the other side. I want to take you in my mouth, fully, while you are still soft, asleep. But the skin my lips press against will no longer be pliable; you will have stirred, I know. You will be pressing against my face begging. As much as I would love to swallow you down, that is not what I want. Not yet. Before I begin, if I ask you to think about baseball, will you?