I lay alone in the bed, somewhere between the hazy fuzz of sleep and the drumming blood of wakefulness. Stretching out upon the surface of the bed, the cool blankets rub against my legs, sheets bunching up against my very naked center as I roll myself onto my belly. My ass is now exposed to the cold morning air, as is most of my back. I'm feeling muzzy, languid, and sensual. Closing my eyes I strain my ears to listen for the sound of my lover shifting about the house. Hearing paper rustle and the movement of furniture, I know that he is still home. My sex lightly twitches at the thought of what a temping spectacle I must be making of myself as I lay here, legs slightly spread and ass facing the doorway. Part of me just wants to go back to sleep but the other part really hopes that my lover will walk by the doorway and look in at me. As my head clears more, the hope for pleasure blooms quickly in the garden of my mind. Just once I would love for him to come into the room and just touch me without me asking him to.
I stare out the window at the plush, green trees and daydream of hands roaming over my skin; warm, large fingers brushing down my back. I love his hands: big, thick palms, skin that is slightly rough from long years of manual labor, and with a strong, hot grip that can make my insides melt to liquid fire. Almost everyday I dream of those same hands rubbing my body. Rubbing more then they ever really do, exploring my skin slowly but with purpose. I think about it until my womb throbs and aches with longing and I feel my face turning hot and pink.
I will him to walk by the door, will him to touch me forever until I'm a needy thing for him, breathless, clasping to bring his body on top of my burning flesh. I've long since reached down and started lightly running my fingertips around in circles over the backs of my thighs and up over my hips. It feels so very good, but only frustrates me more in my need for my lovers touch. I hear him walking about and hold my breath, shivering.
"Please, please come to me", my brain yells out behind my closed eyes, "I need you so much." I turn my face into the pillow under my cheek, breathing deeply and smelling him there. I hear the jingle of keys in the next room, and with a sour disappointment, I realize that he is probably getting ready to head out the door. I try to bring my sexual frustration under control since I know that he will be leaving any moment, but my crotch won't let me go so easily; it demands relief! I figure that once he leaves I will masturbate myself to a quick climax to ease the tension and then get up and wash the rest of my sexual frustration down the drain.
I hear the swing of a door, followed by the click of the lock. Rolling over, my hand immediately flies to my pussy, my lips already puffy and slick with my own juices. I focus on the image in my mind of my lover rubbing my hips and breast gently, creeping up over my neck and giving just the barest of squeezes while his fingertips brush over my parted lips. I would dart my tongue out to taste those fingertips, his salty skin stinging my taste buds. My fingers caress the oily folds of my sex, as I imagine then to be his fingers running over my hyper-sensitive skin, teasing between the lips. He would part the crisp hairs and delve lower and deeper into my hot center while his palm puts pressure on the top of my pubic bone, rolling around over my clit.
It is all too much, these thoughts of his hands! But I am captured all the same in their seductive snair, so much so that I almost scream out when I feel a warm grasp wrap around my ankle. Looking up I see him smiling down at me; I've been caught! He laughs and I'm sure that my entire face is the color of a tomato, while my fingers are still lodged somewhere between my legs. I take a deep breath and smile back at him sheepishly, barely able to look him in the eyes. "Are you having fun?" he asks me as he laughs lightly. "Not as much as I would really like to." I say somewhere between saucy and embarrassed. He winks at me and I feel his palm start to slide from my ankle, slowly up my leg.
My breath catches in my throat as I look at him. My eyelids flutter with pleasure, my arousal climbing up 20 degrees higher. Those fingers trail so lightly over the inside of my thigh. I cannot help but move my legs to make it easier for him. I tremble as his touch traces up and bypasses my throbbing cunt and instead twirls lazy circles over my belly and ribs. I'm really squirming now; wanting his hands to crash down between my legs. His teasing is so good however that I really don't want him to stop.