I don’t want to touch myself thinking of you. I don’t, but I can’t help it. I don’t want my hands to trace my body and make my torture without you all the more powerful. But I need it, and need you. This need for you won’t stop. It’s worse than thirst, worse than hunger, worse than fatigue. Because I can’t quench it. I’ve tried, but nothing will satisfy me but you. I don’t want to touch. It’s useless to do it, I can’t finish, it only makes my torture worse. But I NEED it. I don’t want the fantasy to form in my mind, I don’t want to dirty you with my thoughts. I contradict myself. I can’t stop my hands from fisting in my hair, gripping my neck, caressing my breasts, traveling downward… It’s like they aren’t even my own hands, they disobey me. They don’t listen to me and what I want, they know better than me. I imagine they’re your hands now, and I can’t help it. I need it, I need you.
Your hands play in my hair, and tickle my neck. Ohhh I can’t stand that…my neck. My sensitive neck. With every hair on my head that you reach, the power of your touch grows. What is it about your touch, only YOUR touch? You make me feel every inch of my body that I ignore, feel everything on me. The air…all I can feel in the air is your heat permeating it. Your body warming mine, radiating to me, even everywhere we aren’t touching. Right now it’s only your hands touching me. Your breath caresses my face…and ohhh…my neck… It’s such a wonder to me that even the simplest things you do, even breathing, excites me. Your breathing…your mouth…your lips. Oh god, I want your lips on my neck. I want you to bite my neck, kiss me all over and let me bathe and indulge in you like sunshine. But it’s only your hands now.
You trace a single finger along my collarbone, down my chest. I breathe harder now, deeper. Breathing you in. Your one finger circles around my breast, spiraling around and around to its pink peak. Your thumb joins that finger, and you pinch me. Hard. I gasp and moan. I don’t want to make these little noises, or the deep moans. It makes me feel like an animal in heat. But I can’t help it. Your other hand has crept around to the breast that’s been alone. Your heat, your breath, your mere presence is erotic enough. When you do things like this… When you do anything, I can barely take it. Your hands relish in my softness and lightly pet the most delicate part. Rubbing. Then strumming…circling now. You torture me. I whimper and sigh. Every little sound that I’m embarrassed to make, you torture out of me. Oh god! Now you pinch both of my nipples without mercy. The gentleness, then the roughness. I savor it.
Another gasp comes from my mouth, another moan, and my lips stay open for the many more sounds you’ll force out of me. I don’t want to moan, to writhe, to arch. To embarrass myself at your whim and melt, submitting to you. But…I can’t help it… I never could help it, I have no chance. I can’t know if you’re aware of how you affect me so powerfully. The thought of you knowing makes me hotter. I arch. I writhe. I do. Oh how I wish…I wish it were your lips on me sucking me. I wish it were your teeth grazing and biting my nipples. My nipples that you’ve made so very hard, that are reaching out for you. Your hands abandon me, and I whimper in loss. This short, tiny expanse of time you’re not touching me anymore is so very tortuous. Don’t tease me like this…please! I arch out, I stretch towards you, I rock towards you. I want to rub against you, ohhhhh god, I do! But you’re out of reach, except in my mind.
Your hands. They return to me and graze down my sides. Tickling, caressing, building a fire in me hotter and hotter. I don’t want to want it, but I can’t help wanting it. I’m throbbing now, I’m so hot, hot all over. I feel my blood pumping, down to my core, like a second heart. A second heart that’s always soft, warm, and open. Only for you, just for you. You’ve made me even softer, even warmer, and wet. Your hands slip down closer, closer. Closer to where I want them to be. Please…yes! You slip a hand between my legs. I don’t want to…I at least tell myself that I don’t want to. I open my legs wider. I can’t help it. It’s something I can’t help. I want you in me, I need you in me. Your finger, just a sole finger again, inches down to my wetness. Oh, how I moan. I’m begging you. My pride won’t let me say it, but my moans and my dripping pussy are begging you. You slip inside my folds, and rub my opening. Aaaaaaahhhhhh! It feels so good! I buck my hips forward, and I arch as high as I can, pleading you to enter me. Please! I need it so bad my eyes water. Your thumb rubs my clit instead, while another of your fingers joins the first that still teases my opening. I’m dripping, burning, kissing the tip of your cruel finger. I feel crazy to say it, but can’t stop myself.
“PLEASE!”
The first and only coherent word I’ve said so far. You slip inside me. I gasp as you do. I tremble and shudder. You’ve made me so weak. Weak with need, and weak under your power. Your thumb circles around and on my clit, that sensitive little nub that is now controlling and containing my entire being. Your fingers pump into me at the same time. Ohhh! I groan. Loudly. You’re hitting that spot in me…that spot. Oh god, there! More, please, please MORE! I wish your tongue could join those fingers! I wish I could feel the tickle of your facial hair on my thighs…OH GOD PLEASE. If only it was you filling me, the entire length of you taking me! Ohh..ooohhh…oh GOD! I want it so badly. If only I could have any of you. I wouldn’t need your tongue, your lips, or even your cock. Just your hands, YOUR hands, you! You touching, probing, caressing, rubbing, pinching, and controlling me! I gasp in desperate need. I buck, I can’t control myself. I need it. I CAN’T help it; I NEED it. I pant and contort and sweat and burn alive in my vicious lust. Please, this time PLEASE. But I can’t cum. I cry out in frustration. I could cry. The hands lose energy and fall away.
They aren’t your hands. Not your heavenly, magical touch. Without you, I can’t get there. You…oh dear god, all that is missing, all that is missing every time, is you.
Please.
I don’t want to need you, but I can’t help it. I need MORE. I want more than just these hands. Only just my own hands.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/5nbo7c/touching_myself_thinking_of_you_female
wow.. great work.. getting hot in here