My sex drive and my imagination are at it again, the customers in the cafe are already naked and doing it over the tables... even as they sip their lattes around me. They have dialog and everything. I have become the director of my own mental porn with an audience of one. Good job I look normal. God, I hope I look normal.
I'm never sure if my fantasies lower or raise my sex drive, are they the fuel or the foot on the gas, or both? Either way, there are days I feel as if I'm the passenger rather than the one with hands on the wheel.
Iona said that when her sex drive was at its worst it would commandeer her imagination, turning anyone in her vicinity into an impromptu daydream porn star. She had no idea why regular people watched x-rated TV, couldn't their brains make movies too? Isn't everyone capable of making dreams?
His sex drive, under that American hotrod hood, has the kind of power that roars with the lightest of touch. Yet his ability to stop on a dime is without rival. Power and control with a touch of silk, whatever is a woman to do about that?
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