How many times have I lay in the dark, on the floor or in the bed or on the couch… laying there thinking about you, remembering moments that have passed before in detail, fantasizing about those to come…? How many times have my hands become yours in my mind?
Wandering hands that roughly stroke my breast, my sides, my belly, my thighs. Gripping and squeezing and scratching. It’s never as good as when it’s your hands in the flesh and yet I try. Still, I close my eyes, spread my thighs, throw my head back, and sigh. Still my wandering fingers trace my lines down to that place you know so well, that place which you own, that which belongs fully to you. Dipping down, I touch and find myself absolutely soaked, already dripping down my quivering thighs.
My mind goes back in time to moments we’ve shared: by the washing machine spanking me until I nearly came (my fingers dip in), standing in the tea aisle at the store breaking every PDA, I’m sure you could smell my drenched underwear and I didn’t care (a moan escapes), waking up to your voice in my ear one morning finding you were already inside me taking what was yours (my pace increases), down at the beach in a borrowed car trying to nap but you pulled me against you, scratching, choking, restraining, biting, growling, moaning, owning every part of me with your strong body (crying out your name I find my release alone in the dark).
How many times have I done this before? How many more times will I continue? I am insatiable, uncontrollable, needy, …lonely. You’ve completely undone me. I am a new woman. Weaker, yet stronger. I long for you. Come to me once again and give me more memories to fantasize about.