It’s Tuesday. Fucking Tuesday. And I’m stuck at work figuring out how many Christmas cards we need to mail and answering emails before people finish work in their local timezones and refilling the printer tray when it makes that sad little noise before anyone else notices it has run out. But my heart’s not here. My head’s not here and my body… my body is definitely not here.
My body is wherever you are. My hands are in your hands and my mouth is drawing you in and my breath is coming in gasps and bursts around you. My thighs and belly are slick with come and sweat. My eyes are locked on yours. My knees are nudging yours apart. My voice is a growl and a whisper and a whimper and a guttural moan. My breasts are quivering and glistening and beginning to flush red. My panties are soaked and fragrant, lying discarded next to us, rubbing up against my shoulder as we move. My hair is a tangled, colourful mess. My lips are parting and my teeth are dragging and my nails are digging in.
My chair is wet. The paper’s out again.
