I have a problem. Maybe you can help.
I'm thinking of you, wanting you, constantly. When we're together, or alone, lusting over you, undressing you with my eyes and mind, turning even the most innocent situations into something carnal and wanton and needy.
Do you know what you do to me? When we're out together, dress clinging to you, the hint of a smile as you see my gaze wander, knowing what I want. To drag you into the nearest dark room, lips on yours before you can object, hands roaming, groping, desperate for you, right there. I don't care that we're not alone, don't care that we can't or shouldn't, I need you that much that I can't wait. Hands under your skirt, dress hiked up, for you to feel me, feel how hard you get me.
Or stuck at home, on a day bogged down by laundry and cleaning and responsibility. You don't dress up, but I still simmer for you. Those jeans, clinging to your hips, and I want you against the wall, there into he hallway, hands yanking at those jeans, stripping you. For you to inhale when I drop to my knees, almost tearing at your panties in desperation, burying my face between your legs. Licking, tasting, wanting you as distracted as I've been all day, taking us away from this rote routine to something else.
It could be anywhere, anytime. But know that I want you. And won't stop until I have you.
I'm thinking of you, wanting you, constantly. When we're together, or alone, lusting over you, undressing you with my eyes and mind, turning even the most innocent situations into something carnal and wanton and needy.
Do you know what you do to me? When we're out together, dress clinging to you, the hint of a smile as you see my gaze wander, knowing what I want. To drag you into the nearest dark room, lips on yours before you can object, hands roaming, groping, desperate for you, right there. I don't care that we're not alone, don't care that we can't or shouldn't, I need you that much that I can't wait. Hands under your skirt, dress hiked up, for you to feel me, feel how hard you get me.
Or stuck at home, on a day bogged down by laundry and cleaning and responsibility. You don't dress up, but I still simmer for you. Those jeans, clinging to your hips, and I want you against the wall, there into he hallway, hands yanking at those jeans, stripping you. For you to inhale when I drop to my knees, almost tearing at your panties in desperation, burying my face between your legs. Licking, tasting, wanting you as distracted as I've been all day, taking us away from this rote routine to something else.
It could be anywhere, anytime. But know that I want you. And won't stop until I have you.
