There are many things I want at night. I want you close beside me, the air between us thick and electric with expectation. I want you to move up my body till you lie pressed on top of me, your weight making me scream inside. I want you to nip at my soft parts with your teeth – my neck, my breast, my inner thigh – till they feel very much exposed. I want you to feel my body taut in your arms, fearing to hope too much. I want you to kiss down my stomach, till your mouth hovers over my cunt, my hips pushed up in anticipation in the tense few seconds before the first tentative taste. I want you to slide your hands up till they slip inside me, to find that some part of me has dared to hope. I want you to feel my thighs clench around your hand, till I come in a quick succession of breathy oh’s that stir you to a frenzy. I want to look up and see your eyes plump with the dark fullness, the awareness, that you have quivered and quaked my wet insides, that you are able to transform my lithe confidence into a trembling, aching vulnerability. I want to taste the sharp tang of you on my tongue, my head to whirl with the heady smell of your pussy. I want you to remain there after every other girl has come and gone; come with a quickening and a tightening and gone, with wetness cold and uncomfortable in their undies afterwards. Most of all I want you to want these things at night too.
Posted on: Sun, 01 Sep 2013 12:06:41 +0000
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