What is passion?

It's a hunger. A roaring need to hold your body under mine.

To feel your skin, hot and wild, sliding against my own.

It's the scent of your body,

And the taste of your flesh.

The heady aroma of your arousal inflaming my need.

I want to hear you moan.

To respond to me without thinking. 

I want to hear you gasp and whimper at my touch.

I want to hold you still, 

To feel you struggle, not for escape,

But simply because you crave even more to surrender to my strength

I want to feel you tense

And become taut and stressed

As I penetrate your body and reach deeply into your soul.

I want to own you.

To drive your body into the sheets,

And become the only thing that exists while your carnal fires burn.

I want to see your face

And to know you are at the edge.

To know that I've taken you and that you only desire more.

I want to use my strength

And to thrust into you while you writhe in blissful agony.

To feel you become mine in that moment when your breath catches in your throat.

I want to know you want me 

When my blood turns to fire and my heart pounds in my chest.

To feel you gripping me, urging me to give you that one thing that can only come from a man.

I want you to hold me.

And caress me with your gentle touch when our carnal lust has passed. 

I want to feel the smoothness of your lips, telling me that you love what I do to you.

That is what passion is for me.