I am moaning. The towel I had wrapped around me has slowly untangled itself and slumped onto the bedsheets, discarded and forgotten. I am fully naked now, tiny beads of perspiration clinging to my fair skin as I reach down for the fiftieth time and run a finger slowly across my swollen clit. It sends tiny sparks up my spine and down into my toes, and the desire to do it again is overwhelming. Still, I have to pace myself. I have been teasing and flicking my sex for close to half an hour now, getting myself worked up in anticipation of what is to come. By now I am so horny that I can hear myself whine under my breath every time I dip a finger into the wet folds of my slit and drag the moisture back to roll the clit between my fingers. God, the anticipation is almost too much to bear..!

I am watching TV while I wait, my full breasts quivering with every ragged breath I take. My moans and sighs are at odds with what's rolling over the screen; an advertisement for not-quite-butter, previews of a nature show, the upcoming Olympic events broadcast live as I flick between channels. And still my breathing gets harder and heavier, my orgasm only a minute away despite my best attempts to pace myself. So soon, now. My eyes flicker to the clock on the top of the screen: 10:09pm. He'll be here any minute now.

I skip to another channel. My blonde hair is spread like a tangled halo around my head, two pillows stacked under my delicate neck so I can watch the screen while my fingers dance a slow, sensual tango across the peaks and folds of my sodden lips. Even when I pull myself away and go to pinch and roll my nipples, the soft flesh molding beneath my fingers, the constant thrum beats like a heat wave through me, and I can only stay away for so long before the need overtakes me, and I dip back down to rub and pinch and tease. And always the same picture in my head, so near to being real now and yet so far away.

And then, he's there! I can barely speak as the sight of him sends a shiver through me, and I just moan incoherently as I drink in his dark eyes, his perfect skin, the way his teeth flash so white when he opens his mouth to speak to me. The words have barely cleared his lips before I feel myself going over the edge, but I drink in every word even as my eyes roll back in my head and I shudder and gasp and cry out my orgasm. "Good evening. This is the BBC news at ten."