Rollin' and tumblin'

I think there are sexy things, and there is music. Not all music, but some can make everything sexy. Blues does that for me. It's kind of wild and raw, like nature, and it has movement and tones and art in it. It makes me think of a road trip through lonely highways across infinite plains and endless sky. And blues.
I met him when I had to interview him for journalism grad school. He had long blonde, a wide smile, and moving on a wheel chair. And he was hot as hell.
I couldn't stop picturing myself crawling to his feet, kissing him where he cannot feel towards where he can, slowly, eager to take his breath away. Without caring if he could get hard, I wanted to sit on his lap and kiss him everywhere longly.
I couldn't stop thinking of the two of us on a car, in the middle of nowhere, blues and folk and rock blasting away, and me on top of him while he took away my clothes and suck my nipples. He, rubbing my clit, and I, biting his neck. Both using hands, and mouths and skin to climax on pure and utter passion of one other and the lonely road and the blues.
Now, every time I see him rollin away on campus I can't stop myself from getting wet and lustful for a road trip. And some more.