You asked me if I wanted sex tonight and I’ve been thinking about you for so long, that I thought why not?
You’ve been like an erotic spectre in my head for such a long time, honestly; before we even met, just the idea of you makes me tremble. Your eyes fascinate me, your smell, that rough low voice that makes me so wet. That hot look in your eyes, the way they roam over my body, the fire that it brings. Your beautiful hands with those elegant long fingers, I imagine them on me: In me.
It’s all I can do to keep my legs closed as I work, as I sit on the bus. I am wet constantly. Aroused by the very thought of you. Wet at what you could do to me, the places you would take me. The way you would curl your lips and spread me, wide for you to devour. I imagine your smile, as my viscous fluids drip out of your pleased mouth.
I see a woman with blonde hair and I melt; my heart skips a beat; thinking, hoping, praying, yearning: that it might be you. I feel the brush of your lips on the nape of my neck, softly and I feel my breath, syncopated to yours, every-time a breeze touches me. I wish it were you.
Do you want me too? Do you cum with my name on your lips? Do your other lovers know you, like I do? Want you? Crave you? Like I do?
“Yes, sure sorry Niko, Fire away.”
I feel his dick sliding into my indifferent depths. I feel him move and I hold my breath, wishing it was done and craving, yearning for it to be her.
But I don’t want Niko’s sad pathetic attempts between my legs, his sweaty grunting for 3 minutes, his sweat, his smell. I fix my eyes on the ceiling and take myself away. I just want you.