Black thigh-high stockings run lazily against your legs; the cream of your skin turned dark. Deep blue satin panties cling to you, pre-moistened with anticipation. A purple and black satin and lace corset bustier cup tightly to your breasts, your ample cleavage bare to the chill in the air.
Your hair, braided to a single rope, spills over your shoulder. Your eyes hunger, glowing with fire’s light. Your chest, rising and falling in shallow bursts, desire burning in your heart. Fingers draw teasingly across your body, sending shivers and goosebumps with each pass. Lips painted in cherry, part as your tongue glides along, tasting the lust in the air.
Visions of him rise in your mind, his easy smile that lights up his eyes, the faint trace of aftershave, the musk of a man in his prime, his body firm and strong. You can see him as you close your eyes and drift, eyes piercing the dim light of your room to gaze longingly into yours.
You guide your hands along your body, displaying all that you have to offer for the phantom man. Your mind’s eye sees him cup your chin and draw you in for a kiss. You can almost taste him, the passion, his tongue wrestling against yours for domination, his breath entering your lungs as you inhale him.
You make slow passes along your breasts as if his hands caressed you there. With a smile to your imagination, you lick your fingertips and pass them along your nipples, the cool air rising against your hot flesh. You watch in the very fantasy you’ve created as his lips cover your nipples, hard and stiff now.
With your eyes closed, you can see him smile, eyes sparkling. You sigh as his imaginary teeth tug against first one nipple, then the next. You lick your fingers and run them along his pattern, circling each nipple as he would.
You can see him satisfied to kiss softly down your chest, undoing the bow of your corset with his teeth. With soft, gentle hands, he slowly slides off your corset, exposing you. You feel him trace his tongue down to your naval as wet fingertips make lines across your belly.
His fingers play with your thighs, kneading them and stroking them, the fabric of your stockings the only barrier. You can feel the softness of your stockings, feel the caress of his hands the way you do now.
His lips tease your mound, brushing over it, breath humid and soft, tickling you. His tongue gleefully plays up and down the crease of your thigh, sending shivers down your spine. His lips pull against yours as he sucks your panties; you feel the mix of his saliva against your moistened panties. Your fingers glide over the satin, softly following his mouth.
He brushes your panties to the side, hungry now to taste your juices. His tongue pulses against your clit, the tip tracing a line down and inside of you before circling back again. Damp fingers roll along your pussy, his every action guided in your mind. A finger dips in and out of you as if it were his.
He tastes you, sucking sweet juices, swallowing your flesh in his mouth, soft, gentle teasing slowly give way to raw savagery. He is thirty for you now, a man dying and your flow the only life. Your hands move faster, harder against your clit and inside of you. You can feel his desperation to light your eyes aglow.
Your world comes in flashes of electrical fire, body shaking with the desire that only he can fulfill. Your mind shatters as his image burns itself to memory. You peak, and for one moment, he is with you. Then, silence, nothing but gasps escape your lips.
As you dress for bed, you put away the fantasy; he will be there in your dreams.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/p59v7c/rubbing_one_out