The first encounter online or in person that leaves you with the feeling of anticipation for the next encounter.
The phone call that leaves you waiting for the physical encounter.
The dinner out for two, for a change, that makes you anticipate the event.
The meeting at the restaurant that makes you itch what their lips taste like.
The dinner making that feeling like the itch you can not scratch.
The good night when you find out how those lips taste.
The hand up the back entwining the hair at the nape of the neck.
The promise of the next encounter.
The anticipation of the next encounter.
The home cooked dinner for two for a change.
The cracking open a bottle of wine for two for a change.
The taste of her lips, tongue and mouth and the wine while dinner cooks.
The intimacy of the simple dinner for two.
The taste of her neck while she does the dishes.
The feel of her stomach while doing so.
The massage of her neck and back, teasing her for more.
The passion of her kiss when she forgoes and forgets the dishes.
The feel of clothes being removed by others.
The feel of the skin exposed.
The sound of clothes being shucked.
The success of finding and unclasping of the bra.
The intake of breath as a nipple is sucked between lips.
The gasp as the nipple is flicked with the wet tongue.
The taste of the ear while fumbling with pant snaps.
The fumbling of buttons on my shirt.
The contact of chest hair against her nipples.
The clumsy shucking of pants and socks.
The lifting of her hips to remove her panties.
The trail of her hands over my ass while pushing down on my underwear.
The snag of the band catching on my erection.
The erection springing to more life while it gets more air.
The sound of the sheets being shucked.
The curve of her back begging for more.
The hair of her stomach licked and teased gently.
The smell of her arousal.
The teasing of her sensitive spots.
The process of enjoying the tease.
The time when you stop teasing.
The taste of her anticipation from the valley of the breasts.
The nibbling down to her belly button.

The southerly migration of the slow long kisses.
The teasing of the southern hair.
The licking of her other lip.
The licking of the valley of those lips.
The finding of her spot.
The look of her space as you know you have found the spot.
The gaze back as she wants you eye to eye.
The deep kiss as you align.
The intake of breath as you enter.
The savoring of the warmth as you enter slowly and fully.
The mutual rhythm that eventually develops.
The tightening of her.
The tightening of you.
The sheen of sweat on her stomach.
The quick breaths of the both you.
The taste of her neck.
The nails on your back.
The arching of both of your backs.
The wind and the rain enveloping both of you.
The afterglow.
The limbs entwined.
The savoring of the moment.
The slow kiss.
The arms wrapped around one another.
The eye to eye and grins each as savor the moment.
The feet performing a slow massage.
The naked embrace.
The spooning for that perfect naked daze.
The warmth of her rump in your loins.
The stirring of your loins.
The arms embraced, hands cupping her breasts.
The smell of her neck and hair while conversing.
The itch.
The itch that you yourself can never scratch fully.
The itch that you can never get scratched with cash.
The itch that over rides the zen needed for that first encounter.
The itch that makes you look desperate
The itch that desperation gets you nowhere.
The itch that makes you painfully envious of couples in lust.
The itch that makes you nostalgic for times when you the itch was scratched.
The itch that needs to be scratched.
The itch that makes you scared of compromise just to get it scratched.
The itch that makes you sexual.
The itch that makes you human.
The itch that makes you aroused.
The itch that a bed for one in the morning brings.
The itch of life alone brings.
The itch of sharing breakfast with someone.
The itch of dinner for one.
The itch of cooking for one and having leftovers.
The itch, yes the itch.
Are you my friend or enemy my itch?