Dear Sydney,
It’s an hour or so since we left one another’s company. Maybe you’ve looked at this blog. Maybe you haven’t.
A thing you should know about me — and you’ll learn it if you read more than a couple of entries here — is that, in a generic way, I love pussy. I love burying my face between a woman’s thighs. I love the taste, the sensations, of a cunt on my mouth. That’s generic. It has nothing to do with you.
I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I don’t want to intrude on you, or say anything unwelcome.
So I will simply say the following.
Speaking no longer generically, but specifically: I want need to taste your cunt.