The Eroticism of a Controlled Burn

Your moves and attitude fueled my always-glowing heat

I only asked to have a cup of coffee with you and a chance to talk about our relationship. Friends? Or more? Confusion kindled like a tiny flame while I sat in your kitchenette.

Your everyday, back and forth movements weren’t anything special. You simply reached into the counter for a coffee mug, and I just happened to notice how your back curved so sweetly to your ass.

“What did you want to talk about?” Your question sounded sincere.

I sighed and wondered how to respond as you poured my coffee. Your hips seemed to wiggle in an extra inviting way in those tight shorts while your hair curled over your shoulders like water cascading down a rock wall.

Forming my thoughts became even tougher when you set my mug on the table. Damn. My cock twitched and pulsated. “I like you.”

Getting those three words out of my throat and into the air took a heroic effort.

“I like you, too,” you said, setting the mug in front of me.

Your breasts fit your body nicely— but that isn’t what I wanted to talk about.

Heat is supposed to burn away fog but your simple, nothing movements came with an attitude that gnawed at me and obscured my thinking. Sexual.

Maybe smoke rose out of my now burning lust.

“So?” you asked, sipping your tea.

“Maybe I love you.”

You smiled and your eyes revealed empathy. “That’s sweet.”

Finally, I blurted out. “I want to be yours.”

You giggled. “You are mine, silly. Do I need to remind you?”

I tried responding while searching for what I really wanted to say, but the insatiable flames grew hotter and began exploding when you stood.

Running your hands through my hair simply ignited me more and you knew that, controlling my ravaging burn. Your ability to touch me, slowly rotate your hips, and mesmerize me with your eyes made me weak.

I burned but remained while your arms moved slowly above your head and sent me into a hypnotic state. When you slowly…

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