On fire

He came over tonight after work. We talked, went out to eat, then came back here.
His hand inside me, deep and thrusting, more fingers than before.
His mouth on my breasts, teasing the nipples hard.
"You are so tight, so wet," he says, his hand inside me, and I feel myself clamp down and clutch around him as I moan.
His hand wide inside my mouth as I lick my smell from his flesh.
I lie over his knee and he spanks me, massaging the flesh as it turns pink.
He puts his fingers into my asshole, digging deeper there as well and I moan with delight.
When this man touches me, I am on fire. I want to belong completely to him, to be his in a way that my body already knows is exactly right.

Later, he says "This is not a game, this is something between us that comes out of how we feel."
"I know" I say. "It's playful, but it's not a game."
We never use the L-word, but love is what he touches me with, and love is what I want to give back to him as a gift of my self.