Skirt lifting lust. That illogical panic of needing to crawl inside the womb-like cocoon of someone’s flesh. The incomprehensible, filthy desire. The uncensored throbbing yearn for that primal connection. When you’ve completely morphed into a defeated, defenseless, quivering, panting heap of sweaty codependent limbs. The tear-stained beg for more.
These shirtless glistening gods have felt it. Allow them to give it to you.