...when I'm outside in it!    That said, tucking under a blanket with company before a fire might cause some whetting of the erotic appetite variety...

Something in the air has me wishing we were kissing and licking, breathing near, on and over, entwined... hands, fingers, nails...

As Romeo said, "O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do" -- but more, let bodies do what lips would do; what words whispered in your ears might speak.

You see me for the first time. You smile. I smile back. A warm embrace; our fingers lace. You want to kiss me. I want you to kiss me. We do... warm, wet, inviting... it’s only the beginning... can we make poetry without words?

I aim to find the millionth part difference in the timbre of your sighs~

Sweetly,
Sophie

(My schedule is flexible; and, while my website is a cornucopia of information, please feel free to contact me with questions.)