I Want.....

I want to be brave, to walk up to you, stand on my tip toes and bring my mouth to your ear, to press my body against yours as I whisper something naughty. I want to be seductive and sly, to feel you harden against me as I lean into you. I want to laugh and push back from you and walk away. To have you focus your attention on me for once. I want to bring your eyes up from the screen of your phone, to have them see me.

I want that courage I lack. I want to talk to you you about more than work and our day. Words without substance and meaning are all I can form. I want to speak naughty things, to have you look at me with a knowing in your eyes.

I touch myself thinking of it. Of what you would say if I was brave enough to tell you that you made me wet, that I am wet right now. I want to know what you would do if I was bold enough to guide your hand to my breast, let you feel the pebbled nipple, to cup the weight.

I use my own fingers to roll the nipple, to pluck at it, to imagine your hands. I want it so bad I make mistakes and have to correct errors. I want to feel you moving in me, over me, behind me, in every way imaginable. I want that, but lack the grace, the will, the fortitude to ask for it.

I want to be the one you text all day, who makes you smile that wicked smile I see in your eyes. I imagine it is naughty texts. That she has sent you something provocative, a photo or words that arouse you. I see your fingers type back, hear the little noise it makes and see your body respond to that little phone in your hand.

How I hate that phone, how I want that to be me. How I wish you looked up and saw what is right in front of you. I would take you into my body, moving over you, riding you and pleasing you. I would go to my knees before you and take you into my mouth if you saw me, if you really saw me.

I want that... I want the brush of your body over mine, behind mine, inside mine. I want to be the focus of your lust, not just the friend who you don't see as anything more.

I want what I can't have, and so this warm plastic buzzes between my thighs, a mechanical reminder of what I want, it moves inside me, fills me as I write you. It makes me want. I want you.

I want you to read these words and see me, see yourself, know I want to imagine that you want too.

I want to imagine that you are stroking your cock as you read this, that my words make you think of me. I want to picture you thinking of what to say, how to respond. I want to dream of you making a move now that you know. That somehow my want changes how you feel and see me.

It is a lot to want... but it is what I want. And until that want goes away, I have no choice but to play with my toys, to write out my needs, to wish... and to want...