I am not her

Why?

Why does the idea of a skirt turn me on?

Not just any skirt.
My skirt.
Bunched up around my waist.
Thighs exposed.
Wild fantasies exposed.

Press me back against the wall.
Throat covered in kisses that trail down to tease my breasts, my hard nipples, through thin material.

Yeah.
Hot, moist breath through my shirt.
Panties down around my ankles.
Hands on my ass, pulling me closer.

Penetration.
Rough, sensual, hard.
Needing…

Use me to satisfy your needs and, in turn, satisfy mine.
It is my need to be used by you.
Wrap your fingers around my throat.
Push me away even as you push into me.

Thrusting, probing, fucking…

Yes.
Fuck me.

This is what I want.
No sweet words.
Call out HER name if you wish.
I’ll be her for this short time.
Fuck me like you want to fuck her.

I am lost without you.
Fill me with your hard, hot cock.
When you withdraw, spent, myself yet unfulfilled, I am nobody.

Curse me for not being her.
Shame me for the slut I am.