“You are such a naughty girl.”

“Ah yes, well, what do you to naughty girls?” I laughed, and you swatted my butt as I ran up the stairs.

Two weeks is an awfully long time to think up all the naughty things I like to do with you. Two weeks for me to think of your head between my legs, your tongue flickering around my clitoris while I squirm. Two weeks to think about riding you, climbing up onto your hard cock while you lie beneath me, thrusting with my movements, but often just letting me fuck you hard while you lie helpless, your ass plugged already with that beaded toy that hits you so well. Two weeks to think of your cock ramming into my ass while I scream in utter ecstasy.

It’s enough to give a woman reason to masturbate. And masturbate I did. Oh yes.

But in all honesty, life does get in the way of all this pleasure sometimes, does it not? Sometimes we end up too damned tired at the end of the day to manage more than an email–if we are lucky–and a few fingers teasing our genitals in something perhaps more pacifying than exciting as we drift off to that much needed sleep… Well, otherwise we would have met up at some point. Otherwise we would have fucked and enjoyed that place where we come together, thrilled and absolutely alive.

And still.. exhausted still, otherwise occupied, meeting new people, whatever I am doing, I still think of your when you are not here.

“Yes, you have been naughty, haven’t you? This…”
“is what I do…”
“to naughty girls.” And you pushed up my skirt and let your hand loose to explore the black silk, your fingers tracing the edges, quickly discovering as your fingers plunge beneath the fabric how wet I was.

“I want your clothes off.”

And you were already unzipped–I unzipped you within seconds after you came in the door downstairs, when I was kissing you and touching you wanting you to fuck me fuck me after all this time and you were late, sir, late, and time was wasting, and you will indeed fuck me fuck me in every way. And somehow I believe you may have been undressed–maybe not–as you leaned over me, let me feel your cock rubbing me as you pinched my nipples and held me trapped between your legs on the bed. You knew I wanted you as you took my sweater off, unhooked my bra, and grabbed my hands so that I could not move, bent me over, and pushed your cock hard into me. Yes you fucked me though I was not undressed, though my panties were still on, though you still had your legs firmly planted around mine so I really could do little but to take your cock in as you pushed into me, hard, pushed into me though my ass was plugged. And yes that makes you hot. Yes. You fuck me roughly, the way I like it, dream of it. You fuck me and tell me that you have been wanting to screw me, want my friends to watch you fuck me like this, want them to see just how loud I am when I am excited.

“Louder,” you still say, as I feel your ever-hard cock thrust deeper, as you tell me how much you have wanted to fuck me, as you tell me how wet it makes me when I finally yell out from your fingers grasping my nipple hard harder far beyond what I would normally be able to tolerate, what I could stand if you did not already have me nearly in a trance of delight and pleasure.

You crawl onto the bed, now naked, now unzipping my skirt and sliding my panties off completely, rolling around so that we are both lying on our backs and joined still, looking at one another and thrusting gently, less gently until the plug pops out, and you tell me you feel it out as you thrust a little harder, losing all control and coming at last.. relaxing then as I rub your milky come into my belly and thighs.

I love your come, love the way it smells as you erupt, its creamy luxury now all that is left–at least for this moment–this moment that you lie there in some blissful zone, as you kiss me and then just collapse.

I love the quiet moments, lying near you and not speaking. I love it when you smile at me, and then push my head onto your chest as you draw circles on my skin, love to feel your smooth tight freckled skin, your shoulders, your back as you ask me to rub you and I grab the oil. You roll back over, grab my hand to show me that you are hard again.. and I touch you, gently.

You have a remarkable ability to excite me, satiate me, and still leave me wanting more.

We lie together, and my hands explore you, push between your legs, beneath your balls and around your ass. My fingers push into you, gently, as you hand me the lube so I might push deeper.. deeper still until you have had enough for now.. And we masturbate, glimpsing into that hidden space, the self that finds pleasure still when we are apart.. You grab my hand and wrap it around your shaft while you tease yourself, fuck yourself.. and your face tenses as your legs tense as your whole body tenses as you climax, shooting come again into my hands, and you smile.. and watch my hand slip now between my own legs as I drive myself closer after you do–your smile, your fingers teasing me when I beg you to push them into my pussy while I thrust against a vibrator. “Yes, right there!” And still, I am too excited now, too spent perhaps–is it possible?–from letting you push me into orgasm after orgasm when you fucked me earlier. I curse in frustration, finally stop, turn off the vibrator, then grab it again as I feel a wave of excitement take over. I come. And still I want more.

Yes, you fantasize about other men fucking me, about letting others watch us, about fucking other people with me, about so much more. You push me farther, a little beyond pleasure into pain.. and back. A little beyond the creative realm of intimacy into some expansive place.. a different sort of intimacy where the sharing becomes complete, filthy and fun, and still full of grace and joy.

Yes, naughty. But nice.

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