Poke me!

One day I made you laugh and you poked me.

So sexy, was the poke, but I don't believe that you understand the implications of your touch. You do not need to caress my body in some fancy way, not even rub my arm or feel my chest. No, just a slight poke, as if to push an on/off button.

But I forced myself to hide my attraction, my want to prey upon your body. If only you had known my thoughts, my desires to have you raw in all your rawness.

Now, I question. Should I give you my mind and knowledge of my thoughts? Would you appreciate my desires, or would you simply discredit them?

All of this comes from just a poke. The act of the edge of your finger touching the rim of my shoulder.

I wonder exactly what will happen when you touch me with your entire hand ...