Like I’m home alone…but I’m not.
Laying here, in the bed at half past eight in the morning, I imagine that my family is in the living room: husband reading, and our child plugged into headphones as to not disturb.
The blankets are heavy above me, holding me down, refusing me access to my own skin. So I peel them away, one at a time, until all that is left is the white sheet. I run my hands over the cotton from my throat, across my chest and belly and mound, until they stop, as far as they can go, above my thighs. Pointing my toes, I let the stretch take over my calves and thighs and glutes, awakening my cunt with the pressure, squeezing from the inside out.
I pull the sheet down to reveal my breasts, nipples slowly blossoming in response to the awareness below. Taking two fingers into my mouth, I suck them loosely and slowly to cover them with my own saliva and then slide them out, my eyes closing as I imagine your cock between my lips instead.
I circle my nipple with my fingers, squeeze, pinch, and then take both my tits in my hands, kneading them like dough, my back arching in response.
I consider, briefly, masturbating…but knowing that a satisfying cock is in the house, I can’t help by grab my phone and text him, “I want to fuck you…come here…now…”
Putting the phone back down, I slip my hand under the sheet and let my fingers find my clit, circling it and pinching it like my nipple. I want to be erect for him, so I pinch both my nipples again, too.
Like I’m home alone…
Until I hear footsteps outside my door…