wish you were here

I was thinking about you today. Wondering, as always, if you ever masturbate while thinking of me? Do you talk to me in your head while you do it, or even, if no one is around, out loud?

I imagine you sitting at work, your mind wandering, then wandering still further, trying to picture what I look like, my breasts, my neck, my lips. You think of me, somewhere out there, probably, at this very moment, staring out the window, shifting in my seat.

Do you let your hand wander down for a minute, brushing your cock lightly, the outline just starting to be visible, your balls starting to tense? Maybe you even squeeze it a little - a sudden rush - until you catch yourself and try to get your mind back to what you were doing.

But you are still, unmistakeably, hard. And getting harder. And it is not going away.

(I am fingering myself now, thinking of your cock, straining against your pants so that if you were to stand up, I could see it.)

So you think, what the hell, and you check out some porn on the internet, or, when no one is around, you watch a quick clip of some girl, her face covered in cum, some guy shoving his cock down her throat while another guy fucks her in the ass. You are fully hard now - aching. You want to fuck so badly.

(I am tracing my wet clit with my finger, licking it off, typing some more.)

You are getting desperate, looking around, trying to think of how you are going to relieve the pressure. In your head, I am kneeling at your feet, begging you to jerk off for me, bending over and spreading my ass so you can see my wet pussy, rubbing my clit for you, bringing myself just to the edge of cumming, then stopping, pinching my hard nipples and telling you to stroke your cock.

(My clit is so hard now. I am crossing my legs while I type this, squeezing them together over and over, I am moaning a little, talking to you, telling you to jerk that cock off for me.)

Finally, no one is around, and you can make a run for the bathroom. You go into a stall, and pull it out, leaning back against the stall door, desperate to cum. In your mind, I am fucking myself for you with my fingers. I love that you are watching me. I tell you how hard to stroke your cock - how fast I want it. I make you stop for a minute while I turn around, put my hands on the toilet, and ask you to fuck me in the ass.

(I love getting fucked in the ass - it is so tight, so delicious. I want you to grab my hair, pull my head back, and fuck my ass as hard as you can.)

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(I am taking long breaks between sentences here. My legs are spread wide. My jeans are on the floor under the desk. If you were here, I would make you watch me without touching yourself for a minute.)

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(I'm squeezing my nipples for you. I want to see you jacking that cock hard - cupping your balls - thinking of my ass, thinking of fucking me harder than you ever thought you were allowed to. I want to cum for you so badly.)

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And just like that, I am going to stop. I don't want to cum yet. I want to walk around for a little while with no underwear, feeling how wet I am, stopping every once and awhile to rub my hot clit, or to press myself against something hard, or to pinch my nipple while I am pretending to adjust my bra.

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Wish you were here.