I Am Missing You

I am missing you. You are far away and it will be a while before I see you again. Thoughts of you run through my mind constantly. I am distracted. I cannot focus. I feel a need for you that aches and burns inside me. I plague myself with memories of the beautiful, sensual times we have shared. The way you look at me when we are in bed. That hungry look in your eye that makes me feel like the prey of a masterful predator. It makes me want to give myself to you, to offer myself as a sacrifice at the altar of your passion.
I know that I will see you again. I will drive to you when the time for us to be apart is over. I think of that day and wish it to hurry. The thought of seeing you fills me with warmth. My heart beats faster when I picture the way you will look, coming toward me. This thought crowds my mind as if it were trying to push every other thought away. I dream of you. I dream of the moment when I will see you again. I dream of the way you will touch me, of how you will hold me when I do see you again. In fact, I had another one of those dreams last night.
It was the middle of the day when I arrived in Vegas. The sun was hot and high in the sky. I stopped the car in front of a house I had never seen before. Opening the door, the heat of the desert surrounded me as I tried to focus on the environment around me. The house was large and majestic. The front yard was a wide expanse of tropical trees and desert flowers. Walled flower beds overflowed in a riot of color. Frozen, as though time had stopped, I stood on the walk staring at the door. Without warning, you appeared in the doorway. Your steps increased in speed as you came barreling out of the house and grabbed me, your footsteps pounding in time with my anxious heart.
The feel of your arms around me was real and vivid. I could feel the heat of your body, smell the familiar scent of tobacco on your breath, and see the flash of frenzied lust in your eyes. With no effort at all, you lifted me and spun me around. Your strength was evident in the ripples of your arm, the effortless grace with which you carry my weight. You made me feel light and light-headed.
Then you kissed me. The kind of kiss that a woman remembers years after it has gone. The kind of kiss that a woman gets sentimental about when she talks to her girlfriends. The kind of kiss that artists spend years trying to capture on their pages, their canvas, or their marble. The kind of kiss that makes a good girl want to do bad things. The kind of kiss that makes a girl wet. I felt it hot on my lips. I felt it in every fiber of my being. I felt it leaving white-hot trails through my body, tracing the pathways of my bl**d supply. I felt it heat my extremities and curl my toes.
Slowly, you lowered me to the ground. I could feel my body rubbing against yours. It was clear that you were glad to see me. Your erection throbbed rhythmically against my belly. Pulling away ever so slightly, you held my face in your hands and looked into my eyes. Again, you kissed me with so much passion, yet so gently. Again, I felt the chemical charge of your passionate kiss. My body reacted involuntarily to your touch. My nipples stiffened and pressed painfully against the fabric of my blouse. It gave me chills. It gives me chills to remember it. It was so real.
All gentleness quickly left you and you urgently pushed me back against a wall. Your deft and agile hands groped my body. You touched my face, my neck, my throat. You clutched at my breast. I could feel my hardened nipple pressing into the palm of your hand. Without invitation and without resistance, you slid your hand up my thigh, lifting my skirt. I could feel the warm desert breeze caressing my naked flesh as you exposed ever more of my leg. Your fingertips drew a map upward, following an invisible trail that led to a treasure long buried.
Those very fingers found their way into the familiar recesses of my femininity. Without stopping, you used your fingers to move my panties to the side. Slowly you explored my hot wetness until you found the one spot you knew I would not be able to resist. Taking your cue from my trembling knees and my vice-like grip on your arm, you slowly began to stroke my clit with your gentle, expert hand. Reeling from the rush of your touch, all I could focus on was the way you felt; you felt like home, safety, passion, you felt like mine. And to think all the while you were still kissing me. I could not breathe, let alone stand.
Just when I thought I could stand no more, you began drawing tight little circles with your thumb on my clit. With ease, you slid a couple of your fingers into my pussy. At first, you just placed them there, letting my body become accustomed to the pressure and fullness. Then you began to move your hand, pushing your fingers deeper into my wet pussy and then pulling them almost all the way out; driving me mad with desire.
You leaned forward, letting your hot breath kiss my cheek. With a throaty whisper you said, “I want to fuck you, now! Right here in my mother's front yard!” Your words were more that an expression of desire, they were a command; a set of orders to be obeyed at the instinctive level.
You said you wanted to fuck me and you did! You lifted my legs until they were around your waist and you pushed my back against the wall. You slipped your hard member out of your pants with so little effort it was if it had been free all along. I could now feel the depth and breadth of your need for me. You rubbed the head of your penis against my wet, hot slit. With one seamless motion, you replaced your agile hands with your large and talented cock.
You were not gentle.
You were not careful.
You did not care that we could be seen, exposed as we were.
You made me cum.
I will never forget the look of satisfaction on your face when you felt my release. That devilish glint in your eye will haunt my dreams forever. The sensations I was feeling were so real, I woke up feeling an orgasm subside.
As I lay in bed, trying to recover from what had been one of the most real, most lucid dreams I had ever had, I began counting days. Only 23 more days until I could live out the caged fantasies which had been brewing ever since you went away. I prayed that sl**p would take me again so that I might have another moment with you. I love you dear.
Hurry home to me.

100% (5/0)
Categories: Voyeur
Posted by jsraen
2 years ago    Views: 347
Comments (4)
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2 years ago
really nice
2 years ago
I would Love to experience this entire scenario with YOU, Janelle!
Johnny in L.A.
2 years ago
You described so well the passion and desire we all search for and seldom find. An honest intimatcy were each is more and more aroused, with an increasing thrill, seeing how we are able to our give so much pleasure to someone we love! To able be to make someone feel that good feels SO good. It's Simply Beautiful
2 years ago
this story is so sexy. I can tell how much you love your man!