The contradiction is delicious; I hate the interminable wait until I see you again, yet I love it. The anticipation is exquisite, building slowly at first, but increasing in fervency with every moment that passes, feeding my growing arousal until I find it difficult to concentrate on anything else. All day I've been watching the clock, willing the hands to move faster, eager for your arrival, to feel your hands on my aching, needy body.
And now here you are, pulling onto my drive; my pussy is soaked, my clit is begging for a touch.. a stroke.. a lick.. anything you will deign to bestow... Not playing when I've been so horny all day has been a most stimulating torture.
As per your instructions, I unlock the door, put down the keys, and go upstairs to remove my clothes. I diligently kneel at the side of the bed, facing the door with my knees spread wide so you can see my slick pussy when you enter.
The front door opens; another rush of moisture as I hear you come in, then close and lock the door. I listen to you moving about downstairs. You take your time, purposely extending my wait, as if daring me to move out of position. I find it hard to stay still when I'm so excited, but I persevere because I want to please you. Your footsteps on the stairs - slow, deliberate - cause my exposed clit to spasm. How can I be so close to orgasm when you've not even looked at me, let alone touched me yet?