Confession

I shouldn't feel this way. I shouldn't want you this way. I know this. And yet, time and again my thoughts turn lustful when I think of you.

I can't stop imagining you touching me, your tongue flicking against my taut nipples, your fingers gliding over my stomach, finding the spot which is in a constant state of aching wetness.

I can't stop imagining dropping to my knees, freeing you from your jeans, feeling you pulse against my lips as I take you deep inside my hungry mouth. I want to taste you. I want to feel you cum, feel it hit the back of my throat as I drink from you.

I imagine you pushing me roughly against the wall, forcing yourself inside my aching desire, thrusting deep, your breath hot and heavy against my neck. Your fingers probe in that taboo location, filling me, making me scream.

God help me, but the things I would let you do to me are numerous. And ever so wrong.

Even now as I confess, my fingers slip beneath my skirt to touch myself, to try to relieve this ache. But it is your fingers I am imagining... First one, two, then a third, slipping inside me. It is your tongue I imagine flicking against that sensitive spot as I rub it desperately. It is you bringing me closer and closer to release.

Do you feel it to, I wonder? Do you find yourself lost in these same thoughts? Do you fight to keep yourself from throbbing in passionate need when you think of me? Do you give in to the desire, touching yourself while imagining it's me touching you?

What do you think of when you think of me? What would you do to me? With me? What is your confession?