I asked Sofia to send me something she knew would turn me on to prompt me to write about how intensely I need to fuck her, how tragic it is that I can’t.
Sofia knows me well.
It’s been years now, literally, that she’s been feeding my insatiable hunger for her pretty body. She knows what gets me hard, what turns me on, about as well as is possible.
She sent me this:
Sofia knows that, generically, this features many of the attributes I simply can’t resist, that I ask for over and over. She knows, to her occasional annoyance (or worse) that I love seeing ANY woman in leggings, that I love seeing ANY woman spread her legs for me, that I love seeing ANY woman tease her pussy, tease her breasts for me.
But she also knows that I have a highly specific, highly particular need to see HER this way. That seeing her make herself vulnerable like this, dressing for me, touching herself for me, making her pussy wet for me, and NOT coming, displaying herself – her cunt, her ass, her breasts – as she would be seen by me on the street, only more so, sexually available for me, sexually available TO me, is certain to turn me on in all the parts of my brain and body at once.
She knows that simply putting her pretty body in form-fitting leggings, in a tight tank top, gets me hard. That even though I’ve seen her like this literally dozens, and maybe even hundreds, of times has done nothing to diminish the intensity of my need for her, the potency of the reaction seeing her do it one more time, NOW, has for me.
She can picture me, sitting, watching, on my phone, or on my computer, stroking my cock, furtively, in a coffee shop, or openly, on my own, through my jeans. She can picture (because she’s seen it) what my cock looks like as I stroke it, first slowly, then more feverishly, as I tease a load of cum out of me, as I shoot my cum all over the place, imagining she’s right before me, inches from me, swallowing me, taking me in. Imagining it’s not her hand gently sliding up her thigh toward her pussy, but mine. Imagining I could tip her back, pin her hands at her side, as I breathe in the moist, hot, sweet scent of her wet cunt.
She’s imagining those same things as she does this in this video. And now, she’s imagining not just those things, but she’s imagining me typing these words, preparing to upload this text, this video, to share with you. She knows she’s not the only woman who’s done this for me, but she knows she’s unique to me, special, if you will, because – well, not just because of our history, a history that spans not just years, but emotions. Happiness and sadness, arousal and numbness. She knows that, when I see her like this, for me, for you, I am, just for a few moments, transported, to a realm that consists of nothing but me and my fantasies of her.
How fucking lucky am I?