for M. C. C.
I’d been so seized by passion for this delectable lover. I not exactly exempt from feeling, from tremblors of lust. It meant I must, meant I absolutely must not, just fade away quietly, mildly changed, recognized only by the eyelids of my lover. Nights of savage newness found for me again the flaming saliva that connects and perfumed the fevered connection. A thousand precautions gave way thirstily to the most voluptuous flesh there could be. In our hands desire that transcends. What fear on our lips tomorrow?
[FS]