It's 8 pm. I have been thinking about you. All day.
Darkness is my partner. The sounds of generators working hard in various locations keep my company. I close my eyes to rest but pictures of you flash through my mind.
I can feel myself in your arms. Your scent lingers on my nose. Your lips brushing mine as you tease me instead of kissing me. Your hands make their way all over my bosom but meet with the hardness of my bra.
You're not deterred. You rip my buttons and make your way hungrily through my brassiere. I hear the clinking of the buttons as they litter the floor
Naughty boy. You couldn't care less.
I lie there moaning, tossing and turning like there was a snake in my loins. It pleases you. You whisper in my ear, asking if I love you.
Fuck yes, you fool.
You want to please me the more. You tell me you want me to scream till the neighbours hear. You want them to know you're the man. You put your hands in my loins and rub. Rub am, well well. Gently. Softly. Sweetly.
My alarm goes off. It's 8 am. I'm late to work. It's all your fault.
Photo credit: L.A Progressive / Pinterest