It’s 3:53am WAT and I’m tossing and turning on my bed; thinking about you, thinking about your mind, your lips and the words that spew from it. I’m thinking about how I feel when I’m in your presence, how your absence tears away at my very heart, poking and prodding without stop. The way my fingers kill every ounce of pride I try to portray, pushing my fingers to dial your number and to apologise for the things I didn’t do.
“am I dick whipped?”, “am I in love?”, or “am I stupidly in love?”
I’m not going to try to answer these questions tonight, all I want to talk about is how you make me feel, how every thought send juices flowing down my vagina, how I’m squeezing my legs, doing my best to shut down this unholy pleasure I feel just at the thought of you.
I feel a slight drop— Silence—- then feel the trickle down my pudenda to my butt, reminds me of your tongue and the sweetness you give me. I want to ride your face, while you smack my ass,
“Stop with the riding and kiss you, then back to riding your face.
I miss you zaddy, wish you were here.
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