Dry Spell.
I’m on my third month of being entirely sexless and I’ve never been hornier than I am this week. It’s brutal. All I want is a warm body on top of me, under me, behind me…Somebody’s fingers sneaking under my dress as I bend over, sliding my soaked panties to the side, exposing me…Your tongue teasing my pink, pulsating clit…
It’d be easy to go next door, knock on B’s door and undergo a mediocre fuck. However, I don’t want a mediocre fuck. I want a great fuck. A fantastically electrifying, earth-rumbling fuck. I want to be able to say, “That was the best I’ve ever had” (the best I’ve ever had was a 28-year old, frat dude, who also had a handicap hand, if you were wondering). I want to be blown away. And then I want to sit around drinking beers, talking about books, music and pop culture, possibly share a smoke and finally nap. Then wake up and sex it all up again.
Honestly, I just want a charming man who knows his way around a clit. Hell, be an asshole, but be a charmingly witty, preferably generous asshole and share your beer with me afterwards. I’ll share my cookies, I promise.
