Falling doesn't hurt, landing does. No matter how prepared you are, landing impacts you. In flight, you don't register the blows. The euphoria of falling hangs around a while to mask a laundry list of bumps and dings you you collected along the way. Your head was in the clouds. Each collision left a mark. When you land, you'll feel them.
Safer than falling in love, is falling in fantasy. You never land. You keep falling-falling-falling, no landing in sight. Close your eyes; see his face. Lick your lips; taste his kiss. Search your mind; his name is in front.
Slow motion intensity of a first kiss never fades into the boredom of a ten-thousandth peck. It's fantasy. It's all yours. Reality can never take away what's in your head. You decide where you go, how long you stay, and when you will step out of your comfort zones. The boundaries are fuzzy when they aren't real, infinitely easier to hurdle.
Electricity tingles under your skin, ignited by his touch. Desire explodes when his body is near, and he's as close as your imagination. Fantasy doesn't have any use for self-consciousness. Embarrassment won't exist in fantasyland. Kickin' curves pressed against rock hard proportions that flip all of your switches simultaneously. Every caress sizzles. Every glance rocks. Every encounter blazes. Always.
Fly with Mr. Fantasy; kiss him. Embrace him. Lose yourself in sensation. Memorize the paths his caresses engraved on your skin. Savor his essence. Give him your lips, your touch, your body, your mind. Fall, and keep falling. If a landing approaches, raise the sky. Soar back up, and go explore.