I had to change my panties today when I arrived home; I’d been thinking about you. Trying not to think about you made it worse and the warm, secret-gush of my pussy juice had soaked
through. Even now, after changing into fresh lace, I can smell the lingering aroma that’s dried on my fingertips along with a knuckle.
And I think about your mouth, your whiskers pressed deeply against the silky folds of my cunt. Your nose pressed against my trimmed mound. I inhale deeply and as I walk to the sink, I think about you: when you latch on and suck
and suck
and suck…
until light.