The candle on the coffee table guttered, the wax almost completely melted now, threatening the small flame, the scent of it nearly gone, a memory in the room. It was warm, almost too warm now, but after a long day of being chilled, it felt so nice. My head rested on the arm of my couch, my eyes shut, my feet resting on the back, a comfortable feeling resting in my stomach. It had been a long week and the conversation tonight had been long overdue. The laughter had made my sides hurt, my face ache from smiling. But still, the voice on the other side of the phone left me aching for more.

I felt it pooling, low in my stomach, though he was long gone, having needed to get up early in the morning, his family life calling him. Truly, mine would be too, as children often do. It had been what felt like years since I felt like this, like a woman again. I could feel myself growing damp, eager, imagining his smile, his brown eyes warm and dancing as he told me about his day, the things we shared in common – both of us working in office settings, my imagination growing bolder, tracing his shoulders, his arms, down to his hands, then his fingers tracing down my skin.

I shuddered, rubbing my hands against my eyes, feeling goosebumps running across my skin. My panties were quickly becoming wet, imagining those fingers, tracing circles on my skin, pushing my loose t-shirt up over my rounded hips, picturing him kneeling between my thighs, his eyes darker than sin, watching my face. Such deep intense feelings in those eyes, they made me grow wetter, made me feel more needy. I felt my own skin heat more, the fantasy so real, I whimpered softly, feeling the calluses brushing across my stomach, I could see his tongue brushing and wetting his lips, words passing those lips I don’t think I would ever hear from him.

“I want to taste your skin like I want your next breath. I want to hear you say my name on a prayer…” His voice harsh and hoarse, sending more shivers down my spine.

I opened my eyes and felt myself almost panting, my hands sliding down my leggings, tracing my skin. It wasn’t right perhaps to fantasize about a man I couldn’t have, would never have, but the need was desperate. I was aching, my clit a hard button of throbbing pain in my panties, my slit soaked with my need. I worked my leggings down, my whimpers louder, and let my thumb brush across my wet slit, then dip between the lips of my sex, groaning, feeling how wet the fantasy had made me.

“Fuck…” I groaned, arching my back so slightly, rubbing myself eagerly, hissing softly as I gently pulled the hood back on my clit, making direct contact with it. His name passed my lips, soft as a prayer, and just as pure and needy. “Adam fuck…yes…like that…touch me there…”

I let my eyes drop and he was there again, his gaze intent on my pussy, watching my sex glistening in the low light. The flame was almost extinguished from the lone candle on my table, the lights turned down in my living room, but enough he could see my need. He pushed himself downwards, his hands grasping my hips, wrapping tightly, squeezing my soft skin, and I let another gasp ring out, and then his face was between my thighs.

I felt his tongue rasp against my bud, and I was lost in new sensation. He dragged his tongue through my wet slit and it was almost unbearable. His beard brushed and burned against the sensitive skin of my thighs, making me hotter, making me ache and throb more. I could have shouted my house down, as he eagerly began licking me, tracing figure eights across my clit, dipping down into my wet hole, my pussy clenching on his tongue, eager for more, begging for it. I was so empty and it felt so good.

I was building quickly to my peak, aching and rocking, fighting every second, squeezing my thighs around his head, digging my hands into his hair, crying his name, almost a prayer. One hand slipped from my hip, and then his fingers were there, pressing into my tight pussy, hooking into me, and I was lost, gushing on them, orgasming so hard I couldn’t breathe for a moment, soaking them, soaking his tongue as he rushed in to catch my liquid. His tongue lapped up my liquid desire, his throat murmuring his pleasure at my taste, at my pleasure.

I snapped my eyes open, breathing hard, trembling, my body tense, shuddering in the aftermath. It had been so real, his mouth on my skin, sucking and licking my pussy. I hadn’t had it in years, but I could swear his mouth was on me, making me cum, making me see stars. I shoved my shirt up and off, my tits heaving, my pussy still aching and throbbing, begging for more, and I stroked my clit again, shuddering with need. My nipples were hard, my skin flushed as if his beard had touched every part of me, leaving a beard burn behind. My skin almost felt aggravated between my thighs and it made me whimper.

I felt my face pinken more and I retreated my hand, so embarrassed I had given in to my needs. I sat up slightly, sweat dampening around my face, the ache still there between my legs, throbbing and insistent, but I wouldn’t go back and do it again. Not while he was so present in my mind. It wouldn’t be fair and I didn’t want to keep going like this. Not while he wasn’t aware how I felt.

I snatched my phone off my table, pulling open our chat and before I lost my nerve, rearranged myself, then took a picture, nipples still hard, skin flushed, biting my lip, and sent it with one question.

See what you do to me??