Wistful for you, a dainty kind of desire, an easy to keep in a pocket desire. Lacy, pointy and elegant, associated with sighs and a drooping head, glances up from eyes partly hidden under hair. Discrete comings, stifled yelps quickly turned to a laugh to cover itself.
But what is growing in me now is a need that roars its demands through pounding blood and throbbing tissue A craving girl who will not be denied. Whose mouth is permanently open to receive and from which moans, groans and gutteral grunts emerge as if torn from a mooring deep inside her that no longer serves.
I want you. A tap at the door, instructions to follow. Butterflies in my stomach, my skin tingling with anticipation, stripped, kneeling, striped, crawling for you, your cock in my arse, fingers in my hair pulling back my head so I can view my wanton abandon. Displayed in windows, used and marked. More and more and more.
fist published on Fetlife April 2014