For the person that will have the privilege of knowing my body.
You breathe over my chest and goosebumps form, brushing your lips down my breasts as if you're reading a braille that only you can understand with each kiss. Your tongue traces circles of little orgasms around my nipples to elicit sighs in a tone unrecognisable to the nonbeliever, only a god could have forged an instrument lovely enough to imitate my moans. You begin to feel cold so you bury yourself in my warmth, moist as a pleasant day, tight as a new fitted shirt, dip your fingers into my honey and taste nothing sweeter. Sweat forms between my thighs from the shaking they're doing and your hands slid down to quench a thirst they never knew they had and find grip on water like my inside held on to you. Your grip slips, my grip tightens as you're in me. Or into me because you want to know me.
