Last night, the moment you told me to keep track of all my dirty thoughts, I started having dirty thoughts.
I imagined you taking me by the throat over to the bed and feeding me your cock while your guests drink outside.
Imagined you bending me over the couch and fingering me until I come with your hand clasped against my mouth to keep it quiet.
Then at the bottom of the stairs. I told you that one. I wanna fuck in that stairwell.
I had dirty thoughts with your fingers inside me, telling me how you enjoy how I’m always so wet for you.
In the car on the way home, replaying the evening in my mind. Thinking about how badly I was going to want to touch myself when I got home, and then feeling that went cunt of mine clench remembering that I can’t and being turned on by the fact that you can and do command it when you want to.
Stripping down nude last night. Knowing you’d probably gone to bed already and I wouldn’t get the permission I’d requested. Feeling the cool air in my bedroom against my nipples and the wetness on my pussy lips and wanting quite desperately to touch, to pinch, to arouse. And hearing your words in my head, “don’t even think about it…” Turning to my side in the fetal position, thighs firmly shut, imagining you behind me – cock hard and pressed against my ass as I drift to sleep.
Waking up at 4:30AM. I want to touch myself. I think about the doxy. It’s right there. I could grab it, do it. go back to sleep. you’ll never know. But I will. I can’t. I won’t.
I hear your text come in around 6. I see that photo come in. I am wet. I know it before you give me permission to touch. And then i touch. and I rub and rub. I think about your mouth on me. Your fingers in me. Your eyes when you were pressed against the wall looking down at me. The inside of your elbow around my throat, and how it’s been getting tighter. Tighter….You tell me to come for you. I do. I always do.
In the shower I absentmindedly start running my finger around my asshole as the hot water pours over it. I want to go inside. I almost do and then I remember. I can’t. I don’t. When I use the handle to wash out my cunt, I know how much of what I’m rinsing out is the slick wet remainder of every thought of you that crosses my mind.
As I’m selecting what to wear and pick out the elevator dress I’m already having dirty thoughts, remembering that night. The slaps to the face. the spanking. the fingering. The heat. I think of how you own me. How my body responds and reacts to you. I know I’m wet again. I put on some panties.
Driving into work I hear a song on the radio. she’s talking about being “sick of that same old love,” and I imagine the times you’ve had me restrained. Pinned down. Gasping for breath while you take your pleasure from my body. I think how happy I am that we don’t have that “same old love.”
Elevator. I slip my fingers under my panties and up to my lips to taste myself.
At work I’m already thinking of you. I tell you I want you. You send me your face. I bite my lip and save it to my growing collection of your selfies. To flip through later, in the bathroom. I’m wet, typing this – remembering.
I get back from a breakfast meeting. Sit down. Turn on music. The last thing you recommended, cut chemist. I’m dancing in my chair. My coworker walks by my office. I’m typing this up for you and dancing and she smiles. “you’re thinking of him, aren’t you?”
Flashes again from last night. Watching you with that knife, opening up the oysters. Sitting beside you. Everything feeling so natural and happy and good. The slap and kiss in the kitchen. The moments stolen by the bathroom. Smiles everywhere….I’m so happy I could get emotional about it.
most of the staff are in the lunchroom. I take my phone to the bathroom. I sit in the larger stall and open up the gallery folder with your photos. first your face. Then the other one. I stare at the one from this morning. I imagine the firmness and taste of it on my tongue. I imagine it sliding in and out of me. I rub my clit. I clench and rub and tilt my chin up and imagine you leaning down to kiss me. Your fingers replacing mine. Or you watching me do it. I spread my knees wider apart and show you what’s yours. I imagine your face watching me. I come close ……and stop.
I’m looking at the clock. Hour and a half left to go. I’m considering going home early. And hour early gives me two more opportunities to edge myself for you. I imagine where I’ll be when you walk through the door. How many words. How many seconds, before you have me against a wall, or on my knees or on my back.
I want you. So badly. Right now.
Every time I look at the clock I have a dirty thought. Or a loving one. Or both. An hour left now before I can go home.
Closing up shop. Heading home now. The butterflies have started, knowing i’ll soon be in your arms, on my knees, on your dick. Your lips. Your face. You. Your hands on my body. Taking. Wanting. I know I’m wet. I may test that theory in the car.
I’m home. Had a snack. Need to get started with my routine, but first…..i’m sitting on the couch downstairs, my panties are pushed aside. That doxy is just upstairs. two hours until you get home. Two hours. Four near-orgasms. I’m going to be a puddle when you get here.
After the “cleansing” I got in the shower. You texted just as I was getting in. It was time for the next round of edging. I lifted my leg up on the tile ledge and bent over. I used the shower head and my fingers together to get so close to the edge and then back away.
Now I’m laying in bed wrapped in a towel. Thinking I should just go unlock the door and wait for you up here, naked in bed. Having you walk in just as I’m getting near climax on the next round…