 |
By (user no longer on site) OP
over a year ago
|
The Message.
She opened message after message, full of crass references to her undulating curves, promises of what they would do to her if given the chance and of course the obligatory images of their cocks; some nice some not so nice. Not for the first time, she wondered what she was doing here. All she knew was that to ignore the deep aching she had in her, the need she felt on a constant basis, would be to deny herself and she could no longer do that.
Whilst she was reading disappointment after disappointment, her hand had instinctively found its way down to the source of the wanton craving in her. One finger had been lazily stroking through her underwear and pj shorts. The warmth and wetness she could feel made her moan. Whilst pleasure was derived from this act, it just wasn’t the same as a man exploring with his fingers and being coated in her juices. Whilst she could lick her own fingers, looking into a mans eyes & tasting herself off his hands was a personal turn on. Especially if he’d made her squirt in ecstasy. All of that seemed so long ago though.
A glance at the screen showed that a new mail had popped up. Being used to the inevitable dissatisfaction that accompanied these messages, she sighed deeply and opened it. |
Reply privately, Reply in forum +quote
or View forums list | |
» Add a new message to this topic
