Some of my friends say they worry that I am being consumed by passion – As if passion is a dangerous thing. They say they don’t understand, but because they care, they issue veiled warnings about burnout. What is it, this “thing” they’re jealous of? True, I am afire. Not everything that exists can be explained. Some days I’m like oiled water squeezed warm from a sponge, the craving is so strong, so rich, so satisfying in its intensity, it would be chocolate if it were food. I throb. I yearn. I daydream. So what? Every orifice aches for his fingers, his mouth, the hot linear press of his hard body. I long for him to devour me; I covet every moment he is with me, in…

+Read more