I close my eyes and what I see is your hands on my skin. You know just how to touch me. To make me feel wanted. Owned. Needed.
I can’t help but become instantly aroused at your every small touch. The casual slide of a finger as I pass or the bruising smack of my ass or the tight grip in my hair. All little reminders of to whom I belong.
And each little touch sends lightning straight down to my core and I am immediately wet and ready for you.
At times, I try to play it off, play it cool. Like I’m not totally and immensely into you. Like I don’t crave more. That I’m not daydreaming about you pushing up my skirt and fucking me over the table right then and there.
Or as I’m sitting at my computer writing, I would never dream of you walking up to me and your hand suddenly in my hair guiding my mouth right there, between your thighs, barely a chance to lick my lips before my tongue is made busy dancing.
Is it possible you could want me as much as I want you?
My eyes are closed and I imagine your hands on my skin, yes, but then, I also imagine sitting in a car next to you as you as you’re driving and I imagine myself, not saying a word, but turning in my seat. Propping my left leg up on the seat, my right staying planted on the floorboard. Pulling my dress up my thighs.
Maybe not quite all the way. Using my hand to touch my wet folds, because I’m always drenched for you. And when I have your attention (that’s supposed to stay on the road), I’d use my other hand to slide my dress clear up and over my hips, gaining you full view of my glory, and no, I didn’t wear underwear today and yes, my fingers are dripping wet and playing for you to watch (and not watch because remember you’re supposed to be driving).
And I imagine myself saying, fuck Baby I want you. But instead I use my free hand to pull my tit out and I begin squeezing and pinching and twisting my nipple while rubbing my pussy.
We can both hear how wet I am. And at a glance from you, I imagine myself calling out your name, hips lifting and cumming so hard right next to you. And the car might jerk just a little as you struggle to control your own urges.
And that’s okay because I know I’d move over and, though it’s cramped, I’d lean over and press my face there in your lap and let my tongue and my hungry lips taste you in that very heated moment…
Yes, when I close my eyes all I can see is your hands on my skin, and I shiver with want. I sigh with need.
tara caribou | ©️2018