Under the soft translucent linen,

在柔软的透明亚麻布下面，

the ridges around your nipples

你乳头周围的那些小小突起

harden at the thought of my tongue.

因为想到我的舌头而变硬。

You — lying inverted like the letter ‘c’—

你——向内蜷曲身体就像字母“C”——

arch yourself deliberately

有意地弓起你的身体

wanting the warm press of my lips,

迎向我嘴唇温暖的按压

it’s wet to coat the skin

什么盖在皮肤上都会是湿的

that is bristling, burning,

那皮肤汗毛树立，火热燃烧，

breaking into sweats of desire —

破碎成欲望的汗滴——

sweet juices of imagination.

那甘甜的想象力的果汁。

But in fact, I haven’t even touched

但事实上，我还没有碰到你。

you. At least, not yet.

至少，此刻还没有。