a slow, long make-out session. we lose track of time, of any thoughts, of reality itself. my hands in your hair, your touch on my waist, our bodies melting together. the feeling of skin on skin, the tingling sensation of goosebumps caused by touch. soft moans and quiet desire.
Their weight pressing into you, trapped between their form & the mattress, every touch & word adding to the low hum of static in your mind. One of their hands gripping your throat, pulse racing, the other pressing down on the bulge of your stomach they cause with every thrust.