It’s dark in the room.
I can’t see anything and I’m waiting for your return. For your touch.
I’m laying on the bed, hands tied to the headboard, legs parted and bound. I can feel the cool air on my skin. I wriggle around, trying to make use of the toy you’ve left in me, but it only serves to frustrate me in the most delicious way. I want to touch myself to release the tension, but I can’t.
I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone. To be teased by you, on fire at the thought of being touched by you, fucked by you. Just the thought of your hands on my body, your mouth, your skin against mine makes me wet. The memory of all the little sounds and growls you make while you fuck me. When we’re rough with each other and when we’re gentle. I…
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