Some days, I carry around sexual feelings like a secret wound. A hot, burning secret that seeps its way into my every thought, my every moment. The tightness in my groin, the adrenaline in my tummy, the dryness in my mouth. The thoughts in my head.
Sitting on a train. Looking at the older guy opposite. Does he fuck his wife? Is he filthy? What would it be like to 69 him? Is he horny right now? When did he last orgasm? What would it be like to ride him, my tits pressed against his chest?
The guy around my age in shorts. Nice legs. Bet he has a girlfriend. What’s he reading? What would he look like naked? Does he talk dirty? What is his face like when he cums?
What about last night when my husband and I lay together, rubbing each other, talking dirty? He fingered me to a climax then he fucked me from behind. I felt dirty and wanted and horny and I am still filthy horny now. I can feel my clit swelling, I can feel myself getting wet at the memory.