How I Think of You

It's funny how when I am sitting here, at the computer, thinking about writing you, I get this surge of desire between my legs. It starts as a slow throb as I start to swell, then escalates to a moaning ache as I get completely hard. I try to finish typing, but that now rigid part of my anatomy won't settle to go unattended. I have to reach down in between typing and squeeze it and tug on it a little through my jeans. Then I go back to typing but simply for a moment, as I have only aggravated the situation. It will occasionally twitch and pulsate, begging for attention, yearning to be released from its denim prison and eager to explode in orgasm.

I cannot indulge in my self-gratification just yet, I feel obliged to elaborate on these thoughts, these visions of decadence. With a few tugs of my swollen cock (through my jeans) between sentences, I will tell you how I think of you:

As I said, it starts as a surge of desire that forms a vision. You are alone in your bedroom and you have just gotten out of the shower. You have a towel draped around you, more for warmth than modesty since no one else is around. You drop the towel on the bed and start to apply lotion to your body. It's tame at first starting with your legs and then moving to your arms. One of your arms brushes against your nipple and gives you just a small tinge of arousal. You then move to your tummy and work your way up to your breasts.

Your nipples grow hard and achy as you run your hands up and down your chest brushing over them with each pass. You release a sigh of pleasure and then lie yourself down on the towel that was thrown on the bed.

My vision then turns to you, lying on your bed, naked, sliding your hands between your legs and pleasuring yourself, running your fingers up and down the inside of your thighs, slowly at first, teasingly. You don't linger there for long as you venture up to your clit and start to rub, lightly and slowly. Then your motions accelerate as your breathing gets faster and your pleasure is increasing. You let out a small moan saturated with desire.

I enter the vision here, standing over your writhing form, naked and hard, stroking myself in time with you. You are soaking wet and I can't help but to slide a finger inside you while jerking myself. You let out a moan at the entry of my finger as the feeling of desire spreads, and I let out a moan to match. Soon, my finger is sliding in and out of you in an ever increasing rhythm as your fingers are rocking faster and faster.

You are dripping now, with passion, and your face starts to tighten with the beginning throes of orgasm. It is still in the distance a bit, but is approaching at a faster clip. I am stroking myself harder and faster with my right hand as my left is pumping between your legs, sliding my finger in and out of you in the growing wetness.

The ache in my hard cock starts to give way to pleasure as there is a throbbing deep inside at the base which I vocalize as a groan. As if in response, your pussy starts to clamp down on my finger and your stroking becomes fast and erratic, your face contorted in preparation for the surging tide of orgasm. As if crashing over a break wall, it comes, the first wave of orgasm floods through your body as you scream out in pleasure, soaking and spasming around my finger, still inside you.

At the same time, I mutter "I'm gonna cum!" as the head of my cock swells. With a primal yell, I rain down a shower of cum all over your breasts, which you have thrust forward to catch the drops. Soon the moans slow, the fingers slow, and the last waves of orgasm wash over us. We then lie back, holding each other, basking in the glow that our orgasms created.

So, while these visions are consuming my thoughts, my physical being is living part of it, now that I have finished telling you. I remove my jeans and begin stroking myself, my brain filled with a myriad of thoughts. I am imagining my finger being inside you, imagining running my tongue all around your clit, imagining you grinding yourself against my face, moaning in pleasure until I finally, cathartically, explode in orgasm.

Does it excite you to know how I think about you?