He told me...

He told me that he could speak french, on all the parts, of my body that could speak back. I didn't slap him, because the comment, was slick, as fuck, I could admit that! I wanted to, let him taste me... make my head tilt back. Let him, start at my neck and "work his way down, that beautiful ____". I couldn't help, but, blank out, as he was telling me that.

Damn near caused, me, a heart attack. My inner thighs, became hot, in fact. It got harder to stay still, sitting in the passenger side, running my finger, along the window sill.

Wishing he could run his hands, down the small of my back, hair strands, dancing, along his fingers, while he's cupping my ass.

I wanted to feel mostly, lips, with some occasional hands. I keep telling myself, "I can't fuck him." even though he wants me. I can't come, in his mouth, even though he's dying to taste me.

"Should I just just cancel?" he asks, placing his lips, in the curve of my neck.

"No..." I said, as I pushed him away slightly, because I needed, to put, both, our vibes, in check.

Or this, might be...a situation.

"You, better go, babe. Because, if you keep going? We might set this in motion."

My body was sweating for the work. I just could have told him.

I wanted him to tie me up, and taste me, 'til my body flows.

Hitting them, G's and making me O.

I want it (and I want him).

I just can't let him know.

So, even though, I want to leave scratches on his back. Even though, I need to hear what he sounds like, when he moans. I got to keep my composure, wait, for the right moment, to lose all inhibitions, and tact. And let, the vibe, grow. And keep his respect, for me, intact.