Just touch me and that first electric contact sparks a chaotic chain reaction of desire for the next touch in every place I can be touched.
In other places that will never be touched, knowing that the desire will never be sated is almost too much for this eager body to tolerate.

Just touch me and my trembling body opens to you like a flower stretching toward the sun. The center of my femininity oozes hotness like lava from a volcano.

Just touch me and all my inhibitions drop to the ground like dry, shriveled leaves fall from the mighty oak in autumn.
I become free to completely accept your touch as an ongoing gift to my ever hungry body.

Just touch me because I'm not always certain when the next touch may come.
Your touch can be as elusive as a four-leaf clover in a field of green. Sometimes your touch can last so long that it becomes as vital to me as oxygen.

Just touch me because you want to.
Just touch me because I want you to.
Just touch me because you can.
Just touch me.