Perhaps I’m unique, but my eye is drawn to sexual energy and potential. A stranger’s vibe can be discovered if I look closely and focus. It takes only moments to decode the hidden signals.
What would the driver’s stubbly jaw taste like on my lips? His black jean-clad thighs make me wonder about the force of his thrusts.
The older woman with an ample bosom saunters by and I wonder what beauty lies between her legs, if her gray husband beside her buries his face in the mounds of flesh on her chest and smiles.
If that teenage couple have discovered the glory of their own touch between them, the sunbeams that can blast out of their souls if only they tried.
I think about how driven we are to lay beside another. Always. Whether love is involved or not, most of us crave that inexplicable, universal thing that may only be achieved through our bodies.
We twist and touch, moan and mangle our limbs to smash so close we slide into a sea of sex.
Pure, religious, hedonistic, transgressive. It doesn’t matter. We want it. We need it.
And so I follow the lines of his bulging veins on the steering wheel, the dark smattering of hair and I imagine how his hands would feel on me – this Brazilian driver with a Swedish name – and I smile.
Sex is everywhere.
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