Yearning

So.

So I keep thinking about kissing you. Your lips moving over mine. Laying you down and ripping that fucking shirt off.

And my lips move and glide.

To your throat.

Collar.

Between your breasts.

Down your smooth stomach.

To the top of those damn panties.

And I keep thinking of how you groan when I'm pushing against you from behind, hand down the front of those jeans, teasing you, tugging and tickling your pubs, massaging your mons.

And right now? I'm thinking of the way you lay on top of those sheets, head resting of your forearms, ass raised up so invitingly. That look in your eyes.

Seems I just can't stop thinking...