When You Get Home…

Some scattered thoughts on absence making the cunt grow moister.

I lie on the bed, counting the hours and minutes and seconds and possibly nano-seconds until I get to jump into your arms.

I let my thoughts and hands drift to the tune of memories of your skin, your scent, the taste of your cock and the taste of your spunk. I haven’t heard your voice in days, but it and you are in my head and it and you are whispering ever dirtier thoughts that make my head dizzy with anticipation.

My fingers frantically frig my swollen clit, thinking of what I want you to do to me and the things, oh the things I want to do to you.

When you get home, push me against the wall. Say no words, just let your actions tell me just how much you’ve missed me. Let your lips scream kisses onto mine. Let your hands tell my breasts how much you ached for them. Let your fingers do poetic justice to your want of my clit and let your mouth sing across the folds of my engorged and sodden pussy.

I will take your cock inside me, all the way inside me until I let out that noise that you get off on hearing – that noise that makes you want to fuck me until my legs give out and I shudder under you, against you. And I will come for you, over and over again until my body melts into the surface and my mind blurs into the ether.

When you get home, I will be waiting.


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