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| Source: https://plus.google.com/u/0/110593883656857839788/posts |
Even though you’re gone I can still smell you. The musky scent
of your cologne clings to the sheets. Even though you’re gone, your taste still
lingers on my tongue. I still feel your hands on my skin, your member between
my thighs. Our moans and groans still ring in my ear.
In my mind’s eyes I see you. So manly, dominant, your body
blanketing mine as you fuck me slow, long and hard. I see me, eager for your
dark desire, knowing I own your body, heart and soul. I see us, a perfectly
imperfect pair.
My hands crest over my breasts, pinching and rolling. A swipe
of my tongue and my nipple puckers, aching with the need to be sucked. Lower my
hand goes, over my quavering tummy and the wet lips of my sex as I remember
last night.
I gasp. The sound of my fingers repeatedly sinking into my
pussy makes my shiver. My back arches as I hear your keys. The front door closes.
With the heat of your gaze on me, I cum with a low moan.
I open my eyes to find you leaning against the bedroom’s entry,
a bag with the logo of my favorite restaurant in one hand and a rose in the other.
Your pants are bulged with arousal. Your eyes, intense blue orbs, travel from
the juncture of my thighs to slowly meet mine. Your lips tilt in that sexy half
smile. “Thinking about me?”
I roll onto my stomach and watch you saunter across the
room. I lick my lips. “You know it.”
Placing the breakfast on the bedside table, you settle over
me. Your lips coast over my shoulders and neck, the rose following in their
wake. You whisper in my ear, “Let me give
you the real thing.”
A zipper sounds moments before you press into
me. Hands over my head, you cage me in and love me with rough, measured strokes.
The rose crushed beneath a naked breast and orgasm washing over me, I have to admit
the real thing is so much better.
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