Read in Episode #1 of The Sacred and Shameless Sexcast.
its been so long without you, sometimes i wonder if the taste of you that i remember is real or imaginary. even though i havent had my mouth on your flesh for nearly a month, i can still sometimes taste the flavor of you in my mouth, feel the texture, the heat. the taste which seems so perfect, which was exactly how i imagined you tasting before we ever met, and your smell, exactly as i imagined you would smell. the perfection of complimentary genetics, it seems, everything about you fits into me like we were made for each other. our tastes mix so well together, as i have often known on my tongue.
You press me up against the wall, just inside the door, our kiss born of all the longing, love, and lust building up within us over the weeks we have not been together. i quiver at the nearness of you, feeling the touch of your hand as it slides down my thigh, the other moving to tangle in my hair even as my arms wrap around you, my fingers searching under your shirt to feel your flesh. our lips and teeth and tongues kiss and nibble and play. I gasp then, moan loudly, unrestrained, into your mouth as you find me, wet and hungry, easily accessible to your roaming fingers.
i long for you every moment. i can feel you, no matter where i go, and i ache for that day when we live in the same city, under the same roof. i long for that day which does not seem so far off as it did when we first talked about it, when we first agreed upon it, which was somehow over six months ago. every day it gets a little bit closer to being a reality, and every day i want it just a little bit more than i ever knew i was able to want anything. the same way i want you.
i grind down against your exploring digits as you slide within the folds of me, playing with my jewelry, teasing me as you know i am burning with lust for you, having been unable to attain release for the last seven long days, as you wished. you love having me aching for it when you arrive, and i do. though i know i would still be aching for your touch regardless of how long it had been since the last time i had gotten myself off.
your presence overwhelms me with lust, just the thought of you makes me squirm in my chair in the middle of class, during work, makes me want to touch all the places you make hot with your memory, and i do, once alone, in the comfort of my scarlet satin sheets, or downstairs, in the living room while my roommate is busy upstairs, lost in sweet memory of your fingers, your tongue, your flesh.
i whimper and grind down harder against your fingers, you pull your head back and i cast a pleading look into your eyes before tugging your head back to mine. one of my hands now tangled in your hair, short and barely enough to hold on to. i fiercely attack your lips, and pool all my lust into that kiss, imagining i can pass it to you so that you can feel it, but only for an instant. your fingers finally find my aching clit and you rub at the perfect pace, in the perfect place, and i break the kiss, my eyes still closed, hands moving to grip your shoulders as i shudder against the wall, as you effortlessly bring me to the edge, and suddenly to topple over it.