I wanted to touch you in the worst way, my fingers desperate to explore every outline of you, my hands wanting to clamor on your chest. Here you were next to me, but it would be selfish of me to impose my insatiability on you. I tried to nestle myself close enough to feel your presence but I didn’t want to disrupt the slumber you seemed to be enjoying and probably needed. Minutes seemed to go by like hours and you never moved, never squirmed or shifted. I should have just marveled in the sculpture of your body that laid in a pose that was soft yet strong, more beautiful than masters took pains to chisel out of marble. It wasn’t enough just to take in the sight of you. You seemed to be unaware of my fingers sliding ever so delicately up the flesh of your thighs, languishing over the softness of your skin and your firm but rested muscles. I doubted you would mind if I indulged in you this way without you being aware.
Posted on: Thu, 10 Jul 2014 13:43:16 +0000
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