I will, shortly, be drinking in how pretty you are, in a crowded subway car, with dozens of others appreciating you, but only me in your ears, in your head.
I want you to think, as you’re walking, as you’re making the way to the train, of the sensations in your body. In your feet, as they strike the ground. In your calves, as they bear your weight. In your knees, as they bend and straighten. In your thighs as they pass one another, perhaps touching one another at the tops as you walk. Perhaps not. And in your cunt, of course. Pay a lot of attention, please, to the sensations in your cunt as you’re walking. To the sensations deep up inside, where my cock will hit when, eventually, I fuck you hard. The sensations on the roof of your pussy, on your g-spot, where my fingers will press up as I finger you, with one, two, but you told me not three, fingers. Pay attention to the sensations closer to the surface. In your clit, as your strides bring movement to your pussy. Where my tongue will flicker, flit, press, tease. In your lips, which also may feel some movement. Where my fingers, my tongue, will trace up and down, collecting your wetness, sliding, sliding, pressing open, so I can gain better access.
And please, as you walk, as you move, please – without turning your attention away from your cunt and how it feels – please imagine what it will be like to stand for me, nude, legs open, hands lifted against a window, as I deliver the first blows to your pretty ass, as I watch the blood rise to its surface, the heat of your flesh mount, as you feel the sting of my palms, the caress of my fingers, and the sting, again, of my palms.
Keep noticing how your pussy is feeling, please, as you imagine my belt lightly tracing across your ass, as you imagine waiting in silence, wondering what will come next. Will it be more blows? From my hand? My belt?
Or will it be soft touches? Gentle, soothing, cool touches on your increasingly scorching flesh? Will it be a Sharpie, writing a message – to whom? saying what? – on your ass? The cool, wet ink a balm on your burning skin?
Or will it be a surprising, gentle touch underneath, my fingers collecting the dripping wetness from your pussy?
Will I kneel behind you, kissing your ass, blowing softly on it? Will I slide under you so my tongue can find your lips, your clit?
Are you still noticing the sensations in your body, in your pussy? Good. Please don’t stop.
When you see me, I want you to lock eyes with me, please. Don’t drop my gaze. Don’t look away, no matter what. If you must, if you must, you may look briefly at the floor in front of you. Or you may close your eyes. But please – don’t look anywhere else. My eyes. The floor. Eyes closed. And please. Continue to maintain an intense focus on the sensations in your cunt. Notice its temperature. Its vibrations. Its wetness or dryness. Pressure? Movement?
And while you’re noticing the sensations in your cunt, while you’re staring resolutely in my eyes, please lick your lips as you imagine my cock in your mouth, on your lips, on your tongue, for the first time.
As you imagine me fucking your face remorselessly. As you imagine tenderly licking, sucking, slobbering. Imagine me, holding a tight grip on your scalp under your hair, pressing you down, hard, on my cock, holding you there till you gag, till you come, till you can’t breathe.
Imagine me gripping your hair, by the fistful, pulling your head back as you strain to get your mouth to my cock, to get your tongue on it, your lips around it. And imagine, please, the sensation as I begin to buck and moan, as you feel my orgasm approach, as you try to pull your head back but instead feel it pressed even further down onto me, so that, you know, my cum will explode not in your mouth, not on your face, but deep in your fucking throat, so deep you barely have to swallow when I come in you – all you have to do is breathe.
Or maybe, maybe, you’d rather think about the sensations in your cunt as I devour you. Maybe tied up, restrained, wrists apart and up, ankles as wide as you can tolerate, with my shaven head all you see of me between your legs. But you can’t see anyway. Your eyes closed as you take in the overwhelming sensations I’m delivering. To your belly, where a palm presses strongly down, triggering a deep sense of pressure and pleasure somewhere above the deepest reaches of your cunt, but below your abdomen. As you feel my tongue on your clit. Slow, light, gentle, fast, pressuring, easing up, flicking, teasing. As you feel my fingers sliding into you, deep into you, and curling up, finding your g spot, pressing against it. And then sliding out again, or almost out, but not quite. And back in again. And maybe as my tongue leaves your clit in the care of a finger or two, it will trace your lips, probe inside you. Or my thumb might press against, or into, your ass, if I make it wet enough, if I press hard enough, if you relax enough.
Imagine all that sensation, in your belly, your clit, your pussy, your lips, your ass. And you can’t fucking move because of the restraints. My tongue working really fucking hard to take you where you need to go. Your thighs starting to quiver and shake? Do they do that? And then, if, when you come, when I collect the orgasm I’ve earned, I’ve promised you, will I stop? Will I let you rest? Or will I keep going? Or will I lift my cock up to your cunt and slide deep into you, pounding you hard, filling you gently, alternating randomly, or not so randomly….
These are things I want you pondering as you look in my eyes. K?