My Arousal: A Note

Hi,

You must know who this is from. If you don't, what I write won't matter much anyway. We've been flirting for weeks now. I'm not brave enough to say it to your face but I can write it here. You know my number, so if you never call or say anything to me I can pretend you never got this. Maybe a janitor threw it away or maybe it fell out of your backpack and blew away in the wind.

I want to tell you what I do at night before I fall asleep. Sometimes I hope you're doing something similar. I climb in, pull the covers up over me, then slip off the tee shirt I wear to bed, fold it, and put it next to my pillow. If I'm wearing socks, those come off, too. I run my hands up and down the length of my body from my breasts to my thighs. I know what is coming next so my nipples are already hard.

When I get to my panties I slide my fingers underneath the band and begin to pull them down. There's a ritual to taking off my panties. I don't like to do it too quickly, but I can't deny myself very long, either. I pull them down slowly, inch by inch over my thighs. When they get past my knees I leave them there for a minute. There's something so wanton about being able to spread my legs only just so far because my panties haven't yet made it off of my legs. It reminds me of vigorous and spontaneous sex, the kind where there's no time for removing clothes.

While my hands are on my body, my mind is elsewhere. I imagine a knock at the door on a rainy afternoon. It's you. You're wet. You say nothing to me as I fall into your arms, our lips crushing together. Your hands tear at my clothing, pulling it off. You don't ask me to do this. You just do it and I let you.

My hands are on your clothing, too. I open your belt, then your fly. I sink to my knees, pulling on your waistband. I need to drag your pants only partway down your thighs before I find what I want. You're already hard so I take you into my mouth. Your fingers tighten in my hair as I open wide.

By this point in my fantasy I've given up on rubbing my nipples and I've moved my fingers lower. All it takes is the slightest touch to know how aroused I am. My finger glides along my slit, my wetness coating my fingertip. I run my finger up and down the length of my pussy. God, I love how that feels. I don't go right for my clit despite my arousal. I want my fantasy to last.

But I don't want you to last. I'm intent on bringing you to orgasm. That's why I'm stroking your cock while you fuck my face. You have me in the corner by the door, leaning against the walls, bucking your hips into my open mouth. Soon I hear you catch your breath, feel you jerk slightly, then your climax erupts in my mouth. Like a good girl, I swallow everything you have to give.

By this point, I'm rubbing my pussy in earnest. I need to slow down if I want to avoid coming so I can prolong the magical feelings I'm giving myself. I force myself to no longer rub my clit even though it is practically throbbing. I'm in danger of coming even if I rub my lips for too long, so I turn my attention back to my nipples. I do leave one hand between my legs so I can play with my pubic hair and sometimes rub my pussy. Thinking about what happens next between us turns me on.

I imagine myself stripped from the waist down, now reclining on the sofa as you sit before me on the ground. I open my legs for you, my hands on my thighs, holding myself apart. I throw my head back and moan as your tongue probes my pussy. I close my legs around your head, squeezing as you lick.

I'm back to rubbing my clit now. My fingers slide so easily against it. I am so wet with arousal.

Even writing this to you, I must take constant breaks. I cannot write more than a paragraph at a time without my fingers stealing below my waistline, feeling for wetness.

I know that I can explode into orgasm at any moment if I want to, and maybe even if I don't want to. I am nearly to the point where I lose control of my body. I have to hurry through my fantasy. I flash forward to an image of me bent over the same sofa, you fucking me from behind. You are again pulling my hair. I'm screaming now. I'm not saying words, just the guttural sounds of a woman being fucked and used.

I push two fingers into myself in a pathetic imitation of your cock. I know it can't compare but I make the most of it. Penetrating myself gives my clit a break, allowing me to hold on for a few moments more as I visualize our tryst. And then I'm at that moment. I've flipped onto my stomach, my ass perched in the air, grinding my cunt into my open hand. I moan into the pillow, not caring if I'm heard.

The orgasm arrives. It's like a brilliant light passes through me and then slowly leaves. I'm warm all over. I've even started to sweat. The sheets between my legs are damp and my thighs are wet with my juices. I consider taking a shower and wonder whether I'm up using the detachable showerhead or the buttplug kept in the drawer next to the tub.

I'll now end this note. I hope you've enjoyed reading it as much as I have. And for the next week, if I hear a knock at my door, I'll hope that it's you.