I want.....

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I want to be kidnapped by Ewan McGregor, taken on a hot-air balloon ride over the Serengeti and be made love to in a four-poster bed draped with white voiles blowing gently in the warm breeze.

Failing that. I want chocolate.
 
I want a fireplace, a nice bottle of wine and lights from the Christmas tree. Instrumental holiday music in the background, and a sexy present next to me, willing to be unwrapped.
 
He is like the most delicious sort of cake, and I want to dip my fingers into him, scoop him up in tender handfuls, and take him reverently into my mouth. I want to fill my mouth with him to overflowing, smearing him over my cheeks, and neck, and into my hair, and across my breasts. I want to eat of him until my stomach is full and there is nothing left on the plate and I am choking and gagging with bits of sweet cake falling from my lips, and still I continue to lick at the plate like an animal abandoned who was only just now rescued by the most generous of bakers.

And in an hour or so, I will want more, and i will go to the baker with open mouth, and he will fill me again with sweet, sweet cake until I am sick, and satisfied.
 
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