The blankets hide us in warm safety. Your legs part when I put my hand on your thigh, and I feel the moist arousal. You offer me your virginity. Yet, I cannot. Or, I should not.
Three years planning and your five-thousand-mile journey stymied by a single look.
While you were already in the air, just half a day ago, I fell in love. I lack the wisdom to know what to do next.