In my mind, the transformation is complete and I have stolen away to this refuge on the beach. I walked the last mile with a pack over my shoulder, gritting my feet under its weight while my feet sank, ankle deep into the soft sand.
Now I wake, cosy enough in my bedroll on the bare wooden boards and survey my room and the few, practical things I have brought with me. Is this kitchen or bedroom? In my mind they have become fused and I know that preparing and eating food has slowly replaced the greatest sensual pleasure and so I would pound you with textures and pull your hair with flavours and make your eyes roll back into your head with sweet delights.
Even so, I still want to see your pale thighs spread on these rough boards and then fold and press your body beneath mine as I hold you and fuck you like the waves.
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