Oh, how I yearn to lay down on my perfect mattress, black bedspread over it. No pillow. It’s useless anyway.

I feel your thighs as you sit down upon me. You’re warm and sweet, like dear May. You gently touch my neck. Your hands are ice cold. They make my skin tighten, sending shivers into my very core. I struggle to contain them, to no avail.

Your nails peel off bits of me as you start moving your hands. Slowly and firmly.
I take a deep breath and sigh with pleasure of the like that only a special few get to feel.

You squeeze hard! Letting loose only to squeeze again. And again. Until you decide to move, and give me a good yank as your hands come tangled in my hair.
I get warmer, catching fire and bursting into flames. You’re caught in the inferno, but you love it. You go harder.

We keep going for as long as you can last. The end is, as always, abrupt and intense for you, relieving for me. Then, you roll off, laying down next to my smiling face. I could be very well asleep right now, but I choose to savor every sensation instead. I thank you.

Yes, that is how much I need a massage! Not from anyone, though. I only want you.