I hate that I'm moving out days after you move in. It can't be helped, but it's just not how this should go. After that delicious visit where we barely got started, you moving back in next to me should have been a long, slow, deep slide.
It should have started when you got back, pushed down onto my bed, lips locked with mine, my hands roaming your body inching their way under seams and towards your nipples and clit.
It should have continued with ropes around your wrists and your ankles, tied back behind you with your wonderful chest shoved out for me to play with. Lying on my bed, nowhere you can go, waiting to see what happens next.
I should have teased you, rubbing your body through that tasty blue dress, slowing bringing you closer and closer but never quite enough to satisfy you. You should have moaned for me, quietly and then louder, begging me to "please, sir, let me come!"