How I Make Fire. . . On You (not directed at anyone, lest they either get offended or start stalking me. . .)

My hands are fire as they move across your skin, igniting a passion that boils your blood in their veins, sweet hot musk rising from your body that intoxicates me as I inhale your scent. Your salty, creamy flesh gives way under my manic thrust, animal desires leaping beyond my ability to reason, to stop myself from ravaging your willing body.