the life and musings of a kinky slut

Think Of Her


When I think of her, I first imagine her eyes. Blue, dark, almost cobalt. Striking. Engaging. They say more in a moment than I’ve ever spoken in words.

Then I think of her hair, her raven mane, long and flowing, wavy and full. When we fuck, it goes everywhere. Everywhere. When she stands naked in front of me, it lightly brushes the top of her ass. The smell of her shampoo. The soft silkiness of her locks against my skin.

Next, I think of her lips, pink and plump. The way she lightly licks them, especially when she eats ice cream or drinks hot chocolate. I think of kissing those lips, my hands entangled in her strands, the look in her eyes just before we each close our lids to be lost in our embrace.

I quite enjoy the curve of her hips, placing my hands on her cleft, and squeezing. I grab her there and pull her in close, her ass resting in the dip of my lap, or her head finding the crook of my shoulder.

Oh, her ass. Round. Firm. Begging for me to take a handful. On many a night, even after hours of fucking, my teeth sink into that flesh, enjoying the taste of her. My tongue traverses the valley of her back, tickles her neck. I nip and suck wherever I please.

Oh, and her pussy. One can never forget her pussy. The hot nub of her clit, peaking out when I play with it, ready and waiting for my tongue. The taste of her. The way she sinks her hands into my hair, trying to hold on for dear life. The motion of her hips, rising and falling with both her breaths and the manipulations of my tongue.

God, the sounds. The moans. The groans. The screams. Obscenities. Deities. And my name. I always love it when she screams my name. Sometimes loud and long. Other times low, guttural. And, best of all, breathy, begging, pleading with me to let her come.

There are so many things I remember about her, so many things I dwell on during my days, so many things to get in lost in. But it is that voice, her begging, her pleading, her saying my name, that I always come back to, always hanging on the edge of my consciousness, a never ending track playing in my mind.

Categorised as: Erotica

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