Girl Thoughts (Naughty)

Once in awhile, I find myself alone in the house, with the sleeping cats, the clock ticking and empty vats of time. Oh, there's usually lots of busy things waiting to be done, but with a little discipline, I can avoid my obligations completely and imagine that I'm really living a life of leisure. I might throw on a bit of blues or maybe some Janice Joplin, stretch out and think about my latest love interest or some anonymous passer-by and let my tensions unwind.

Usually the fantasy is pretty incomplete, flashes here and there of images that really get my blood flowing. One that I've returned to many times is a scene from "Emanuelle: Joys of a Woman". Two strangers meet on an airplane and begin fondling each other sitting right in their seats. Eventually they make their way to the bathroom independently and somehow both squeeze into the small space together. The thing that gets me about this image is that the stranger props Emanuelle up on the edge of the sink and thrusts into her, fully dressed. Slowly, deliberately, balanced, with quietness and passion. You see the man from behind, pressing into her, both fully clothed. If I ever join the Mile High club, that's how I want it.

Other times I'll think about being teased incessantly. Kissed or nibbled enough to get me interested but having my partner hold back, depriving me of deeper oral penetration. He might push me up against a wall or a table and let me feel his growing interest through double layers of clothing but deny me full skin on skin contact. I move forward, meeting his body with my warmth but he gives me only enough to make me squirm for more. The yearning tension I feel is almost electric. I love the feeling of hands on my body moving up to my breasts, both screaming to be released from their confines, pushing through the fabric, but meeting only with silky underthings. With fabric in the way, he may have to squeeze a little harder, pinch slightly or even nibble to feel the hardness of my stiff nipples.

Sometimes I never see his face - he stands behind me and I feel him pressing in. Tattooed arms reach around my waist and find their way into the front of my panties, touching only playfully, never quite as deeply as my body yearns for. I feel his breath on my neck and feel the length of his body against my back and I want to turn around but don't. I let him have control, let him work my body, tuning me up like a fast car, too much torque built up and not enough road.

But my flesh is easily understood. Some parts are so sensitive that they can't even be touched directly. But he knows, he knows how to work in gradually, waiting for complete and total arousal before pressing in with more force, demanding of me complete surrender to his will. I reach down and press his hand over my mound more firmly. My knees want to buckle but I stand firm. I want to bend over and let him take me from behind but I don't - it's not what he wants. I let him toy with me until I come, screaming and revealing myself completely. I now feel the bruise on the side of my neck where his bite still stings. I feel his pent up desire, pressing through jeans, asking - no, demanding to be seen and felt.

I reach around and indulge his member the full priveledges of my warmed up hands, moist with my own wild screaming juices. On my knees, I gently tease him, only the tips of my fingers at first, caressing from the base of his shaft to the tip, and then back again, slowly, tenuously. I look into his eyes, to see if he approves, but they're closed so I continue. I form a soft, warm funnel with both my palms and let it slide gently down his length. He begins moving with me, and I let the pressure increase and decrease at the head, which is practically glowing with heat. I cup his tightened balls in one hand and gently squeeze, prodding, encouraging further engorgement. I let my other hand form a narrow canal, and as I slide up and down he begins to breathe faster and harder. I press on, moving my breasts up higher so they can brush against his thighs and prepare to be drenched in his sweetness. His eyes meet mine then and I know he's ready. Slowly, but firmly, I squeeze, still moving up and down but subtly now. His leg muscles stiffen and his come finds it's way to my breasts, my lips, my hair. I'm warmed by his soul's essence, reveling in his heat.