I Want More

I love the feeling. The blindness after my eyes have been covered. The soft rubbing of satin binds against my wrists. I love the way I can't see what's coming next. I can't predict where I'll be touched or licked or bitten, sucked, even spanked. But most of all, I just love the submission. There's only one problem. I've never been able to tell anyone that it's what I want.

It's not my boyfriend's fault. Matthew is fantastic. He's sweet and intelligent. He's also beautiful. At six-two, he towers over my five-foot-five frame. Where I'm all curves from head to toe, Matt is nothing but angles and planes and solid muscle. He makes me feel so cherished and protected. But just once I would like for him to not be so careful. To not be so nice and sweet in everything we do. I would love for him to pick me up and just take me. Pound himself into me like he can't live without me. I'd love for him to tie me up and make me beg. Just once. But Matt would never make me beg for anything.

There's this fantasy I have where for once I'm not shy or soft spoken. In the fantasy I'm a sly little tease; one who flips her hair and gives those come hither looks. And I'm someone who can make Matt quake with wanting me so badly.

In my mind I'll be wearing a short little skirt and a pair of barely there panties and I'll accidentally bend too far over in front of him. I'll wear a blouse with several buttons undone to give just enough of a hint to what's underneath. Somehow in my fantasy I'm very good at this seductress tease act, though in reality I don't believe I could ever do a thing to goad Matt into a sexual riot.

But the teasing isn't what I like about the fantasy. It's where the teasing gets me. In my mind I'll look at Matt with these big innocent eyes and see the heat that has crept into his face. In my head I can hear his breathing deepen and it drowns out all other sound. I swear when I think hard enough I can even feel his hands as he grabs me and nearly bruises my lips trying to get inside of me. I imagine one hand holding my wrists above my head as his other creeps between my legs. I don't have to dream up the wetness he'll feel between my legs because by now my dream alone has made me drenched.

He would rip away my panties, forcing his knee between my legs. The rough texture of his jeans would abrade my soft skin only adding friction, torment, and an increasing ache. The hold on my wrist tightens as I ride his leg, trying desperately to gain some form of satisfaction. A satisfaction he isn't ready to let me have.

Matt would rip his lips away from mine and force his knee against me harder, lifting my feet from the floor, leaving me suspended in agonizing pleasure.

I feel his teeth abrade the soft skin of my breasts as he bites off the buttons of my blouse, seeing that for once my large breasts are not encased in their usual bra, but something lacy and sexy, something that is low to the point of being obscene. Matt would use his teeth to gently tug at my nipples and I would scream out at the pleasure this affords me.

Slowly Matt would slide me to the floor, waiting for me as I steady my feet. He would let me lower my arms long enough to let my blouse drop and my bra follow, but would soon turn me around, pressing my sensitive nipples against the cold harsh wall. The moan from my throat is torn from inside, rushed from the dark part of me that has never seen light. His teeth graze my neck and his hands caress the sides of my waist, and for a moment I actually think he'll be nice. Until I hear the zipper. Those unmistakable clicks of teeth that I know without seeing are revealing what I want more than anything else.

It's quick. The change from gentle to demanding; it's instant. His hands are gently sweeping my hips and then he is inside me. Fast. Hard. Everything I want. My arms brace me, my legs tremble, my breath labors, and my mind shatters as everything comes together for one hard fuck.

My nipples have never been so hard; I have never been so wet, and it is all from a dream.