Bear with me. This may come as a shock, but…
I have no desire to fuck you until I already have.
You won’t get my heart racing unless I’ve felt yours beating. You won’t have my skin tingling if I haven’t felt your warmth. You won’t have my panties dripping unless you’ve been inside.
I might find you attractive. I might linger on your pictures a few seconds longer. I might entertain the idea of your company.
But the pulsing energy, the quickened breaths, the euphoric fantasies won’t come unless I know you.
I get off on the anticipation of next time. My excitement comes from expanding on what I’ve already felt, from exploring new things but grounding them in the familiar. I can’t crave something I’ve never indulged in. At best you’ll pique my curiosity, but you certainly won’t leave me longing.
So when you proclaim all the things you want to do to me, dear stranger, I’m flattered but also a bit baffled. I wonder how you manage to get through your imagined scene with so many unassigned variables. I wonder how erotic your thoughts can actually get when you’ve never been in my presence. I wonder how deep your desire can be knowing that it’s based on assumptions and not actual experience.
I suppose the unknown is part of the appeal. Maybe it’s the mystery that drives your lust and engorges your mind. And while that may work for you, I require an established connection to truly whet my appetite.