Secret Thots for a Very Private Gentleman
tales, temptation, and titillation…
Tonite, my pussy thrums. I will slip out of my sexy lace thong. I will slide along the warmth of my folds and marvel. (This amazes me: how soft am I!) I will slide my fingers along, around, inside and out pleasuring myself, thinking of this and that – attached to you. And the scent of my juices will sugarcoat the moans of each breathy cum I make.
… when you pause, dick-deep in me, and look me in the eyes – probing my clit with your confident, curious fingers. You smile as I squeeze my tits and arch and moan with throaty pleasure.
Anything to hear me make this sound – that’s what we both know you’ll do.
That’s what I count on every time I undress for you. That’s what I long for when I slip past the waistline of my panties and caress my secret-smooth mound.
That’s what I need.
And more…
I need you.
After a long day, I slip under the covers and…
gently remind myself where your tongue has been.
I was driving today in the rain. Stopped at a light, I dropped my chapstick between my legs… like, deep between my legs. When I went to retrieve it, my fingers brushed my clit and I paused. Slowly, I began to trace the smooth material covering my most secret of parts.
I realized how hard it must be for you to find the trip wire of my clit when I am packaged so. I imagined you reaching from the passenger’s seat – like the last time we drove together. My legs parted gently. I saw your beautiful face, your intoxicating eyes, and a moan escaped as I – as you – pressed hard on the tip of my warming iceberg.
The vigour of my rubbing increased until the friction peaked in a pulse of wet, soaking my soft and pretty-now-slippery panties. Cars were honking and driving around me by now, the light having changed long ago. I slipped my hand into my tights and from the side, released my pulsing lips.
Soft.
Fuck, my cunt is so warm and butter-soft when I am like this… when my body remembers your touch.
I danced my fingers between my folds. I could smell myself and my sweet aroma of need. I licked my lips, dropping my head back on the headrest. My thumb rubbed and pressed my clit (exactly the way I love – the way that makes my legs tremble) as my fingers spread and slipped into the wet-wet of my cunt.
When my fingers (yes, plural) filled me, it was your hand. My gasps and moans were echo to yours. The heat of my rosy cheeks fogged up my windows. My hips shimmied around my spontaneous self-pleasure. My fingers – yours – plunged in and out, in and out as my clit grew fuller and unbelievably plush under my thumb – the same thumb that I now imagined was your mouth.
Wet.
Fuck, my cunt is so wet and thrumming-with-thick hunger when you are with me like this. You whipped me into a moaning, trembling, arching plea for more.
When finally I came, my cries matched the rhythm of the dashboard’s hazard light. My breasts arched to the sunroof and my toes curled inside my rainboots. You must’ve heard how your name danced on my O-shaped lips between the cacophony of “yes!” and “oh!”
I licked my fingers for you, sitting there catching your breath beside me. I licked my fingers as my other hand slowly opened your pants. I licked my fingers as my wet mingled with the heat inside your underwear. As I gripped your beautiful hard and kissed you, your hand returned the grip as it slipped into my hair.
Hard.
Our mutual grips re-heat our imagination and I don’t care how many lights need to change for you to cum with me… I just need to hear your sweet release.
It doesn’t take much for me to moan when I feel this slick from my soft that glistens on the inside of my softest of sweet thighs.
I sigh as my clothes lift and separate from my body.
I cum watching your blushing need rush straight to your head.
It doesn’t take much for my jaw to clench when my fingers trace your skin and for my lips – the ones I shaved mere hours ago for you – to begin to swell with dewy drip.
I moan and bite my lip, fingering myself for you.
I cum just thinking about you.
It doesn’t take much for my nipples to harden and my back to arch and my legs to spread and my ass to lift and my clit to fill and thrum and more moaning more more more I say in whispers, just like I breathlessly adore your name.
I gasp touching myself for you.
I cum remembering you.
Fuck.
I cum and cum and cum for you.
Dear Gentle Sir,
I wonder what you would do if I were there now, with you? Would you want me? Would you trace the edge of each shiver you give me? Would you tease me with your hand or your tongue? How would you coax the first moan out of me… and then the third, the 17th, the 27th?
As I slip back into bed, I wonder these things. I wonder what it would take to make you hard? I slip out of my tank and lay on my tummy. I feel my breasts bulge against my weight, pressed hot atop my flannel sheets. I want you to see me. I want you to watch me lift my hips so I can slip out of my lace thong panties. I want you to finish the task when they get caught around my knees. Then, I want your gentle caress along my long legs so that I feel your firm desire. I want you to smell how wet you make me. I want you to lick your lips as you bend your knees, hold my hips, and spread me with your thumbs.
This pause we both take is its own kind of truth.
You underestimate the power you have, the lover you are. You hide such incredible fire inside; each spark of inspiration makes me moan and ache for you when you are gone. I am nothing special but with you, I become extraordinary. With me, you must explore… there are no limits. With me, you have a kind of permission that scares you; I know this, you know this. It frightens me, too, at times until I see you again – ablaze in all your glory – and I am reminded: holy fuck, are you ever beautiful.
Ah! And there it is: my first moan.
Not-So-Secretly Yours,
Lola xo
and all I can think about is you.
Here I lie, warm under my covers
and yet, my nipples are so hard. . .
I wore a skirt today.
Had you put your hand between my legs
I would have moaned quietly
In the back of my throat with low, soft cries
And looked you square in your beautiful eyes.
I wore a pair of lace panties today.
I almost didn’t, though.
Had you slipped the lace to the side
You would have felt warm, silky lips
Licking your finger tips.
I wore the memory of you
When I slipped away “for a moment.”
Had you only been there.
Each moan undressed me, my gasps commands
As my throbbing clit fed hungry sex to my hands.
Chorus:
I came three times today.
But there you were inside me.
I came three times today.
And there I was astride you.
I came three times today.
As you cried out beside me.
— Lola Moi —
My clit has been thick with longing for you. I walk to the store, panties soaked with how you please me. Driven to distraction – to my bed, seeking relief. Release. I say your name into the mattress. Can you hear me?
Somehow, days pass and time does not take its toll – what was, is still now, and we lie breathless in one another’s arms. I need to taste you again. I need to hear you moan. To say “yes” in your ear. To watch you cum… so very hard for me.
It’s when you look at me writhing under the force of your careful touch, your sweet caress, your plunging curiosity that I reach for you. You make me smile. Blush. I bite my lip – it’s that, or your shoulder. Our tongues trace each gasp of surprise. Where did you come from? My beautiful, sweet lover. Where did you go?
My body trembles still, knowing the way you watch me – so present in my pleasure, so intent on piquing my need. Your certainty parts my legs and your mouth so generously sucks, laps, strokes, and presses my thrumming, wet clit. The parting of my folds and spreading of my holes become our serenade. Your perfect cock, a beautiful rod of deeper truths.
To feel my hand in yours is to discover adoration. To look at you is to read words newly born. Yes. To give witness to your permission is to buck and arch and reach and spill over into soak. Our meeting is a universe of secrets stored in towers of honeycomb. Each breath, another chance.
— Lola Moi —