He is forged from fire and steel he is not someone that was born.
There is a very primal sensibility to him and ever present in the way he looks at you. Not that he looks at women as prey, as a hawk would to a rabbit but rather more like male wolf to female wolf: yes there will be a struggle but it will be one of equal force and I know exactly where I am going to bit the back of your neck.
He has got a muscular body, a back that cries out to be carved with finger nails, I mean down to the light (not too dark) tan that gives his skin a wild glow; It is perfect without any tattoos. As much as I like some tattoos there is something beautiful in a blank canvas and stands as a testament to his ever individuality by not going out and getting one. I am sure he works out but instead I envision him outdoors without a shirt chopping wood with an axe. Even his sweat is sexual.
Why oh why is he writing me now. I live in the US now and he is within reach.
“ Magikal Alien, you might not remember me” he says.
As if my cunt would forget.
I am not at ease when men or admirers from the past re-appear. I always ask what it is they want but I have to say the timing on this memory was pleasurable and that is exactly where some men should remain; a memory.