Having just hung up the phone, the sound of your soft, warm voice still echoes in my mind, deliciously tickling my ears. I feel somehow incomplete tonight, and merely speaking to you was not enough. As we tentatively spoke of plans for Saturday, of the day's events and of your interrupted gaming, all I could see, all I could feel, was the warmth of your breath upon the nape of my neck, and an incredibly intense yearning for your presence. To feel your arms enfold me, drawing me close, despite the heat of the night, a radiant remnant of the infant summer's warning blast earlier in the day. I shiver, knowing that it has nothing to do with being chilled, but instead from the opposite effect in fact.
Sitting on the wooden bench at the side of my bed, I turn to glance at my reflection in the full length mirror upon the sliding closet door. Ever critical of my unique appearance, I find myself wondering what it is about my body that still manages to capture your pique. Is it my rather small, yet firm breasts with long, proudly sensitive nipples surrounded by dark rose areola's that you find so enticing; the soft twin swells of flesh that seem to fit into your hands as if sculpted for that very purpose? Or perhaps, is it the soft curve of my hips, rounding to a plump, smooth ass that begs to be caressed or clenched tightly in relentless passion at the height of our union, a firm hand hold as we move as one? A smile of wicked delight curves up the corners of my mouth, as I garner simple enjoyment from the realization that it is likely to be all of this and more that entrances you, lures you into my embrace. Melded with my sensual eroticism, my desire to pleasure you and the willing offer of my every fiber in return, I know that we satisfy each other wholly.
As I watch, fascinated.. my own hand slips down across the front of my chest, lightly passing over one nipple, feeling it spring to a taut bud beneath my palm's passage. I shiver with arousal, as the electric tingle shoots straight to my already thrumming pussy, sensing the wet heat that demands attention. The heat radiates outward and upward, suffusing my skin with added warmth. I let my other hand drop down to caress the top of my thigh with my nails, feeling rows of gooseflesh march with almost military precision up and across my forearms then down my spine.
I close my eyes, tilting my head back, imagining that you are watching me pleasure myself, and that you enjoy it almost as much as I do. My fingers roam the expanse of my chest, pausing to roll a nipple between thumb and forefinger, to pull out the now breathtakingly sensitive peaks until I allow them to spring free of my grasp with a satisfying pop. I lick my lips, aching to feel your own sweetly soft ones pressing gently against them, at least at first.. then, to have them return with utter abandon.
My eyes lazily open as I glance down to see my curved wooden backscratcher lying on the plush carpet at my feet. My mind tingles with possibility; glancing over at the head-board of my bed, I glimpse the very end of my smooth black vibrator. Looking back at the back-scratcher, I decide that I'm more in the mood to torment myself, rather than attain instant gratification. I reach down and grasp the thin length of smooth wood with the curved, notched tip and slip it up along the edge of my inner thigh. Barely brushing against the thin layer of dark curls nestled in the cup of my groin, I shiver anew. A quick inhalation of breath betrays my fluttering pulse-rate and the race of my heart mirrors the pagan throb of heated blood as it races through my veins. I close my eyes once more, and allow the satin feel of the wood send surge after surge of electric pleasure through me as I slide its tip across the line of sensitive skin just below my navel. Muscles in my stomach quiver in instinctive reaction to my arousal, making me imagine that the feel of the wooden reacher is instead, the silken brush of your fingertips across my inflamed skin.
Leaning back until my shoulders are braced comfortably against my mattress, I move so that my right hand can palm once breast, as my left continues to trace erotic paths of sensual fire across my lower thighs with the back-scratcher. As if transfixed, my eyes slip open and stare at my flushed face in the mirror, noting the hot gleam of lust in my crystalline-blue eyes. Darting out the tip of my tongue to wet my lips, I watch myself shiver at my own erotic gesture. Not daring to touch myself directly just yet, I continue the sweet torture of just barely brushing around, over and across my concealed pussy, sensing each throb of arousal in my clit and the liquid fire of my own fluids tickling the edges of my inner folds. Squirming beneath my sensual ministrations, I force myself to continue gazing at my reflection; knowing I want to witness my own orgasm.
Abruptly tiring of self-torment, I allow the tip of the back-scratcher to slide up the valley of my thighs, parting the soft curls concealing my mound, raking across the swollen nub of flesh buried just inside the tingling folds of my pussy. I gasp and feel my entire body jerk backwards in response, my nipples jutting out, and my free hand takes this moment to pinch one, creating the sensation of lightning as it might feel striking through the very core of my being. Arching up off the bench, I repeat the movement of slipping the wooden tip back up across my swollen, eager lips, pausing this time to press inward slightly, making my clit spasm and radiate waves of a slowly building orgasm throughout the rest of my body. The ripples of sensation lap at my nipples, and center on those twin peaks of electric sensation, as my fingers stroke one repeatedly, then move to pull, roll and pinch the rock hard flesh in succession. I shiver almost continually now, my eyes fighting to remain open, straining to keep my gaze transfixed upon the vision of myself in the mirror.
