As I lay there in the long shadows of the afternoon and listen for the fumbling of keys in shakey hands I can feel the familiar throbbing warmth growing between my legs. I hear the key find purchase and the grinding metal release of the door latch sets my soul on fire. Adrenaline is pumping hot and fast through my veins, my legs suddenly can’t sit still and the rubbing and shifting becomes focused on my upper thighs. I’m wet. I’m really wet.
As the bedroom door slowly opens my legs fall apart and the cool air rushes across my naked skin to relieve the burning. There are no words spoken. Just deliberate, practiced readying. Struggling at the jean button, I reach out and flick the button free as the first electric touch slides through my throbbing, glistening core. I convulse up. Hips pressing that touch, urging that touch to go further.
My mouth is dry and, as if conjured from some deep need inside me, two plump, warm lips meet mine. The lips part and I take long, hungry breathes, begging this strong tongue to be the first penetration. I feel fingers gingerly exploring the aching wetness between my legs. Rubbing the length of each long finger through my wet slit, carefully avoiding the begging point of satisfaction. As I suck his tongue into my mouth, I realize suddenly why each finger had to be so thoroughly wet.