I should be asleep. You told me that you want me again, soon. I want you, too.

Tomorrow we can meet again, if for a short time, but this morning, I am here, warm in my bed, thinking of you.

My nipples are still tender from your attentions, my holes still holding the sweet memory of your cock. It is this that stirs me in the middle of the night, makes me reach down to find myself wet and wanting you.

My love sleeps now. I think of him, as well, what he will say and do when I tell him what you did to me. I think of what you will do on Friday when I tell you his reactions, and mine, and I feel dizzy. I think I want you to spank me at the thought of another man fucking me.

Now you are holding my legs down, apart. I touch my clitoris lightly, imagining that it is your tongue circling softly. You are not holding me down now. No, I am tied, quite well, too, and you are torturing me, making me desire you more and more as your own desire grows in watching me struggle with the ropes. As my cunt grows wetter, you squeeze my nipples hard, harder, as you tease my labia with the tip of your cock. You ask me to tell you exactly, in precise terms, what I want for you to do to me.

I say, “Fuck me.”

You say, “Where?”

I say, “Everywhere. Fuck my pussy hard, and then turn me over and fuck my ass.”

This is not so original, but I am too excited to think of anything else. You ask me if I think about this a lot. I think about it all the time. I masturbate thinking about it, and I want for you to imagine me masturbating right now. I want for you to imagine me fucking someone else thinking about it, and then I want for you to fuck me harder for that, too.  But there is more. I want more.


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