It was just so perfectly timed.
The thought popped into my head.
Sitting on a couch, reading a book, waiting for him to return home. Hearing him entering, but my not responding. Just reading my book; no care in the world.
He drops his things. Immediately drops to his knees. Pulls my skirt up. And begins eating me out.
I’d drop the book, loosing my place, but oh-my-god not caring.
Resting my hands in his hair. Reclining my head back. Moaning. Riding his face. Grinding against his tongue and lips.
That passion. That not-caring-or-giving-a-fuck-I-want-you-that-much lust. Getting lost in it. Drowning in it. Never wanting to come up for air.
That thought, those images playing around in my head.
And then the song came on.
My car radio playing while I’m out shopping for gifts. Hearing the back beat swell right before the DJ stops talking. Just enough time for recognition and move to action. Turning up the volume. Blaring the music and lyrics.
And now they are together: my fantasy and the soundtrack for that fuck.
The memory of the smell of my wet pussy. The imagined feel of his lips on my clit. My remembered moans. And the sound of the music. The evoking words. The heavy bass. The dark yet sensuous song booming from my car’s speakers into my ears.
For four minutes, I lived in my mind. Imagining my tensed muscles. His supple lips. My gasps and groans. I felt the warmth grow inside me. Felt the rising to my high. Wished, for once, more than anything else, that my brain could make my fantasy come true.
And then the song ended.
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