I can't suppress this any longer. Every time I see you in a pretty sundress or a tight little skirt, I lose myself to you. I would do anything to see what you're hiding, or caress you underneath that tauntingly flirty little outfit. I catch myself staring every damn time, and I hope you don't catch me too. I'm sure you do. You have to.

I want to be surrounded by you. Every hug or shoulder rub or brush past me sends my mind spiraling. I want you under my hands, letting me memorize every crevice, every bump, every goosebump my fingers cause. I want to know every flinch, every twitch your muscles release as they're being rubbed, massaged, appreciated.

I want to indulge in you. I gaze at those lips every day, imagining myself working up the nerve to kiss them. To grab your head and finally let you in on the passion and need that's been building in me for so long. To feel those lips, that tongue collide with mine. To bite your bottom lip just enough to make you whimper. Kiss my way down you. Leave the cool trail of my warm licks down your neck, your chest, your stomach... I want to taste the pleasure I inspire in you as I make you feel like my goddess.

I want to overwhelm you. I want that first flick of my tongue against your clit to make you gasp and arch helplessly. We've had thousands of conversations about absolutely nothing, but right now I just want to know what your sighs and moans sound like. What you say when you're too taken over by sensations to think things through, what your instincts tell you to blurt out carelessly. I want to know what you say "Yes," "Fuckkkk," "Right there" to. I want you to grab for me, to feel your hands in my hair to spur me on and hold me there, as if I'd ever fucking leave.

I want to worship you. I want you to feel like nothing in the world matters but your own pleasure. I want you to feel the rumble of my voice against you as I groan from satisfaction, savoring your taste, making you writhe and grind to the ministrations of my tongue. I want you to know exactly how much I love the taste, the scent of you. I want you thinking about how I felt between your legs months from now, even years, any time you need your own private release.

I want to complete you. I want my treatment of your incredible body to erupt in a chorus of incoherent vulgarity and the sound of my name. I want your sounds to echo through the room and escape through the windows for neighbors to overhear, and I want you to not fucking care who hears. I want there to be no worries, no fear, no distractions. Just the one word left in your head as you crest: Fuck...

Please. Let me come taste you.

Chat preferred. Indulge yourself tonight.