Proocations

A new night, a new beer. Renew my soul of slut and my desire to provoke you. You were right, I was already easy before getting drunk. You were right, there are infinite stairs to the sky. Like it's infinite my desires to feel you in my bed. Like it's infinite my desires for you to confirm what they had made me understand through force of pijazos: prejudices about age only limit the enjoyment of bodies, of the pleasures of flesh. I'm sending you a wet kiss, loaded with eroticism and desire just next to your lips, and I announce that I'm working on our story. I can assure, despite knowing you for little time, that this kiss can provoke much. Without waiting for you to respond to my provocations, I continue: As I approach to give you the kiss, I can feel your perfume. Enveloping and captivating, just in play with your personality, make my lips open slightly and let out a discreet groan. I can imagine your arms wrapping around my waist giving me the signal that I can advance or descend... depending on how it looks. I run your neck with soft kisses, barely supporting my lips which I previously moistened with my tongue. I can notice the change in our breathing. You delay responding, in fact you don't until this story is fully written, but that doesn't cut off my desire to keep provoking you: Are you busy today and not going to respond? What should I do? Shall a photo make my provocations take effect? I recapitulate. Our virtual encounters are based on more than photos. They wouldn't serve. Maybe reminding you that crossing the great ocean that separates us has one of your whores waiting for the stars to align and the encounters to stop being virtual. Will that do it? Tell me something, did all these provocations serve for anything?