The tension in the room was slowly reaching its peak. He has even done anything and yet my imagination is already in a battle. I'm never sure if my fantasies lower or raise my s*x drive, are they the fuel or the foot on the gas, or both?
What is about s*x fantasies that feels so much like a vacation from reality? A flood of endorphins I guess is all part of it and the alcohol in my system just heightens it. The chemical spreading through my body releases me from the troubles of the upper brain and putting me in a space where pleasure is keen.
He slowly walking over to the bar pouring himself a drink, never breaking eye contact. Even behind the mask the intensity in his eyes is evident, but there is something different yet familiar about his aura. He placed the glass between his parted li
