tagLetters & TranscriptsWishful Thinking

Wishful Thinking


You've got me all worked up again. I'd driven home in a daze (Who knows how many accidents I'd caused by my erratic driving?), and shucked my clothing the instant I'd got in the door. I'd got my favourite toys out of my bedside drawer, and slipped between those cold sheets, still feeling your touch, smelling your scent.

As I lie here, on my back, waiting for the sheets to warm, I remember your closeness. I remember the look of pure, unbridled lust in your eyes, and imagine for a moment returning that burning look with one of my own. I run my fingers lightly up my sides and over my breasts, delighting in the stiffening of my nipples. I imagine that they are your hands moving over me, and as a small whimper escapes me, I am glad I'm alone in the house tonight.

Just hugging you goodbye this evening left my breathing ragged, and I can still feel the brush of your stubble against my soft cheek. I touch my lips, imagining you turning your head at the last minute to capture them with your own. My breathing speeds up, and I move my hand back down my body again, my thighs parting to allow access to my most intimate areas. My fingers slip between my moist folds, already swollen and ready, and I gasp at how slick I am just at the thought of you. I imagine the touch I am feeling belongs to you, that this is a prelude of the pleasure to come. I sigh, shifting to draw up my knees, your face in my thoughts looking up at me from between my thighs, tongue flicking lazily, eyes smirking up as I squeeze my eyes shut and shudder in ecstasy.

Suddenly, I hunger for more. I want to feel you inside of me, pressing your full length into my depths. In your absence, I reach for a poor substitute, a smooth, cold vibrator. I rub the end into my moistness, stopping just short of allowing it to enter me. I imagine you braced above me on strong arms, teasing me with your hard, smooth member. I can see your devilish grin, urging me to beg you, and I do. I start to beg aloud, calling your name, crying out for you to enter me, to make me feel like a woman.

Only then do I allow the vibrator to move past my lips, pushing ever so slowly. I can feel myself stretch around it's girth, and I moan loudly, pushing my hips upward to greet it. I imagine you looking me at me as you enter me so slowly, until eventually you're all the way inside. I imagine your eyes closing as you groan and shudder with the pleasure of my heat. Just as slowly, I pull the vibrator back out, building the anticipation of climax.

My breathing is becoming more ragged as I continue to pleasure myself with the imitation you. I imagine your groans, your breathing becoming heavy, and the feel of your skin as it rubs against mine. I can feel my climax approaching, and I grind the vibrator into that sensitive spot inside me, sending waves of a deeper pleasure shuddering through my being.

I start to whimper, whispering your name. I beg you to fuck me harder, a phrase I've never used with a lover. I cry out for you to let me come. I urge you to move faster. I'm lost in my fantasy, unaware of my surroundings or the volume of my cries. My hips rise up to meet each thrust, lost in the fantasy of how you would look as you give me the ultimate pleasure. I imagine your look of concentration as you hold yourself back, your look of tenderness as I writhe below you, and your smirk of satisfaction at my pleasure soaked body.

I can feel your hand on my throat again, that tender touch which I had to brush away, and I use the feeling to imagine what it would be like to have you kiss my neck, nibbling lightly at the sensitive skin. At the thought of your hot breath on my neck, my final pleading cry to let me come dies on my lips as my breath is taken from me. I call your name as my back arches with delicious ecstasy, and pleasure washes over me in almost painful waves. I have never known such pleasure before, and I come down from my climax shuddering and suddenly aware of the sweat cooling my body. The entire room smells of sex, and my legs are weak. I'm still quivering with the aftershocks, and I wonder if you are doing the same as me, our orgasms curiously simultaneous despite the distance between our hot, lust driven bodies.

Yet my imagination will not let me rest. I'm fully aroused again by the time my breathing returns to a normal pace, and I worry that my lust for you will never leave me. As I lie there, running my fingers over my burning flesh, I wish, not for the first time, that I could be with you, my love.

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