My legs slowly spread apart. In stockings my heels press in against the cold sheet. My hips buck as my body shivers.
All day I’ve been wanting this, and holding back from pleasure grows more agonizing every second. I’m craving it, again.
I feel the surge of heat between my legs. My fingers can’t resist but trace the pattern of lace all the way down my body.
I pause at the edge of my panties. I think of your hands ripping through the lace, destroying any barrier between our skin. Your cock throbbing through your pants. I forget to breathe. Again.
You’ll know if I give in, I promised I’d wait for you to come home. Still, my fingers trace down. Even through the lace I can feel the warmth. I am dripping.
I want it now. Maybe just a touch will be enough to hold me off, I think. I’m lying. I don’t care. I let my fingers graze the very edge of my clit. With my eyes closed, it becomes your tongue. I think of your mouth, my thighs parted with your hands locking them in place.