There was no fixed place, no scheduled time, and certainly no rules to confine us. Whenever the moment came, we surrendered to our impulses and stripped away our clothes with an eagerness that felt insatiable. I was always greedy for those moments, always yearning for the fire that awakened between us.
Those days, undressing was never a careful ritual. Clothes scattered across the bed, then fell in a careless heap on the tiled floor. Our impatient hands never followed an order; they moved recklessly, guided by nothing but urgency. It was never planned, never measured. It was simply the fire of desire, too strong to suppress, consuming us from within until we gave in completely.
The floor became our bed. The walls stood as silent witnesses, reflecting our shadows in the dim light. Our bodies spoke the only language we both understood—one of touch, heat, and closeness. Each embrace pulled us deeper, each breath stolen from the other as if it were the last day we would ever live. In those moments, even air itself seemed too precious to waste; we exchanged it through hurried kisses, greedy and unrestrained.
The sensation was never soft or tender—it was wild. Desire transformed us: you became the untamed woman, and I, the ravenous man. Together, we let go of reason, gave permission to passion, and allowed ourselves to be devoured by it. The scattered clothes across the floor, the echoes of our moans bouncing off the walls, the beads of sweat glistening on bare skin—all of it formed a scene of intensity that blurred the line between beginning and end. Each climax did not bring closure but instead sparked a new beginning, feeding the flames even more.
I admit, I was greedy for those days. Greedy because I believed that desire should never be mild. To me, desire was not meant to be gentle or restrained. It was meant to be fierce, demanding, and unashamedly wild. It cared nothing for time or place, nothing for rules or appearances.
When desire erupted like that, we were like two predators starved for too long, pouncing on each other with reckless abandon. There was no hesitation, no calculation—only the hunger of two souls unwilling to wait. And when those moments ended, when exhaustion finally forced us apart, I would lie there in silence, realizing that my heart had become permanently greedy for such feelings.
Those memories linger even now. They remind me that passion, when left unrestrained, teaches us something profound: that within us exists a fire too strong to be caged, a force that does not obey logic. It demands to be lived, fully and unapologetically. And I, even today, remain endlessly greedy for it.
Foundation for Lasting Relationship 