Concupiscence

Concupiscence is a very pretty word that means horny.
I loathe that word; it just sounds un-classy to me and pubescent.
But its also a very quick and accurate way to describe how I feel 80% of the time.
The numbers a little high for a woman, right? Maybe... AND!? I don't analyze the why, I just enjoy it.
And like a greedy little human, the more I get the more I want.
What’s the saying? Give ’em an inch and they'll take a mile. I'll settle for 11 inches or more, erect please.
More times than not, the idea of being penetrated is enough to make me wet.
Or the rub where your jeans are sewn together in the crotch, dead center of my clit. The tighter the jeans, the better.
Or a passing breeze that happens to flirt with my panty-less pussy, like a very gentle kiss to get me to open my legs a little wider.
Mother nature, you slut.
The things you can do to me with water and air. Pressurized water in a massage shower head and blowing air are so simple and effective.
With 20 minutes of privacy, my imagination and some dirty pics (not necessary but definitely seals the deal) I could quietly cum outwardly, while screaming inwardly.
No privacy? No problem, vibrators have come along way. The quiet hum is barely detectable to the sleeping bear.
Shit, if you've practiced enough, you don't even need to turn it on!
Just playoff the wriggling as restlessness.
Ideally, I would prefer the real thing but access and quality 80% of the time is hard to get with one man.
Let's do simple math.
80 divided by 2 is 40, which is less than half; anyone should be able to manage that.
Just thinking about it I'm titillated, brb in 20.

(E.D.2020)