It sears my flesh, burning away the pallor, leaving damp bronze in its wake. And while the sun caresses me, clings to me, holds me in its fearsome, unforgiving grasp, it sets my thoughts aflame too: thoughts of naked skin and open skies, of a cooling breeze that tilts long blades of grass, that stirs the locks of your luxuriant hair even as I slowly unveil you.
I want to slip the thin, summer dress from your shoulders, to let it fall down your body, revealing the brilliance of your slender nakedness to my gaze, to the azure sky and the emerald meadow. I want you to undress me, to unbutton my shirt and unfasten my trousers with trembling deliberation, revealing my own nakedness in this private corner of the open world. I yearn to see the fervour in your eyes as you disrobe me, to see the impatience, the consuming need born of weeks and months of frustrated desire.
Look at my face: you’ll see the same hunger reflected there.
Standing naked together, I dream of us exploring: with eyes first, then lips and tongues, hands and fingers. I want you shivering with desire when I lift you into my arms, lay you down against the cooling grass, pour over you in wave after wave of sensation. I want to watch your fingers clutching helplessly at the soft earth as I pleasure you, as I coax your nerve endings higher and higher. I want you to fight to keep the gasps and cries of delight inside you, until they erupt shamelessly from your lips, rolling across the landscape as your body trembles and quivers. I want you to whisper my name, to say it, to scream it as I stir you to orgasm over and over, until my mouth and my fingers are slick with you, until you spread your thighs wide and beg me to enter you, to fill you, to complete you.
And when we’re both finally spent, when the sweat is glistening across our heaving flesh like liquid diamonds, we’ll lie there, cradled in the lushness of the grass, our bodies blazing beneath Ra’s light, and finally, finally, our mutual fevers will be broken.