Yes,
You.
You know who you are.
You turned me on and went away,
Leaving me tortured to the point of hysteria.
You left me alone,
Fingers plunged deep,
Clit tingling,
Body pulsing,
Moving to the beat you started.
I watched you leave,
Helpless and wanton,
Needing you to finish off.
So I decided,
I would imagine your hands,
Your tongue,
Over my skin,
My fingers were yours,
Driven far into the depths of me,
It didn’t take long before my breathless climax,
Arching and releasing.
If you’d have stayed,
I’d have tied you to your bed post,
Blindfolded you and driven you to distraction.
My tongue would have been everywhere,
But simultaneously nowhere,
Never staying too long in one place,
Fingers barely touching your face.
I can only imagine your wicked smile,
Echoed on my lips and flashing to your blind eyes.
I’d pull a nipple into my mouth,
Feel it harden as my fingers ran in a line down your stomach,
My tongue caressing,
Never digressing.
I’d wait until you were close until I pulled away,
Breathing cool air over the wetness on your body,
Tantalising you with my every move.
Swooping in and dipping into you,
Never staying in contact long,
The gentlest caresses and lightest teases pushing you over the edge.
Back arching,
Sweat inducing,
Maddeningly,
Leaving you tied,
Running a feather over your erogenous zones,
And leaving you blind,
Tied and vulnerable.
You like that, don’t you?
It makes you wet, doesn’t it?
