Bites of love.

                                                            

There are two bite marks on my right forearm. When I touch them, I feel the soreness of the skin surrounding it. Brushing my arm hairs against the papers on my desk brings soft tingling to my nerve endings, immediately assaulting my senses and triggering memories of the night before.

I asked to be bitten. I was granted my wish in a flash of passion and love.

I am content.