That night keeps running through my head in flashes. It gives me little shivers, jolts I can't quite handle, causing sharp intakes of breath as I recall in vivid detail the things we did, the things You did to Me.
I want more. More of that.
More of your body, which I can't get enough of - I want to run my hands all over you, just feeling the skin and muscle and heat, feeling all of you alive under my fingertips.
More of your cock, warm in my hands, rubbing gently over my lips, my cheeks, my closed eyelids.
More of your hands, running down my sides, dancing along my back, the feather-light touch making me gasp and arch for you.
More of your fingers, slipping into my slick pussy, the heel of your palm grinding against my clit, your hand laying claim to my wetness, my arousal.
More of your lips, thickly meshing with mine, then lazily meandering down my throat, your tongue wreaking havoc on my self-control as you envelop my neck in wet heat.
I want more of you all the time.
When we're out getting coffee. When we're singing. In your car, going somewhere. Talking (sometimes I stop paying attention to what you're saying, lost in miniature fantasies). Walking down the street, my eyes drinking you in as you make your way ahead of me.
You say I have no shame. I say I can't make myself hold back. I can't. I won't.
I want to turn to you to say something, only to find you looking at me with naked want in your eyes. As we hug hello, murmur into my ear that I look eminently fuckable. Grin at how I involuntarily stiffen at that, my eyes widening slightly. Leave a promise in that grin, a promise to follow through on your words.
Pull me into a kiss that leaves me breathless and biting my lip - you know that look well. Turn me on by words, by your clear intent, by your lips on mine, by your hands winding into my hair, then sharply tugging it back so you can nip at my neck; turn me on steadily, deliberately, painfully; until I beg, shamefacedly inarticulate, cheeks hot with need, for you to take me.
Deny me still, as I squirm and writhe beneath your touch, until, finally, you give me a taste of what I'm craving. Dispense with the preliminaries and just reach for my nipples, tug at them, pinch them until I moan and ask you to fuck me. I will. I'll bite my lip and hiss it, spit it out, mean it with all my soul. Don't listen to me. Instead, hold me down, ignoring my frustrated struggling, and bring your lips to my aching cunt.
