Feel Me, When You Walk
A week passes and I know that you ache for me on an indescribable level. You ache, in every sense of the word.
Your body — still feeling the residuals of my presence.
With each stride, and with each time you lift your leg and move about, you remember what I did to you and it sends you into a memory of me. You hurt a little less each day and you wish so bad that you hurt a little more. The feeling now leaving you every time you wake into a new day, and each new day starting now signifies distance from the moment I left your body. Distance from when I was inside you — a thought you cannot bear thinking.
The bruises that you once worried would be seen strangers, you now wish were still as prominent. That rose-colored mark around your neck from where my hand was, now yellowish, is like a stamp of approval and you want for it so badly to never leave your body. A collar of sorts, of my handprint; marking the moment when you were most happy, of which you can remember.
You get out of your car and you step onto the gravel, and as you do, your body sends a signal to your mind as your pussy moves along with your legs. It is then when you remember what I feel like to be inside you.
When I hold you down, fingers fighting against your delicacies with a vigorous passion, you recall looking down between your own two legs as squirted across your thighs. Walking across the parking lot to buy groceries, you revisit the memory of the look in my face as I fingered you until you broke for me.
Soreness, now a companion of yours following you around each and every day since I removed my cock from you, you do your best to dive as deep into a now fading memory of the feeling of delight blended in discomfort. You see my face as I stood above you, recognizing my satisfaction and I watched you come back down to earth, once more, after you came a half a dozen times before I entering you.
Now, strolling through the sliding doors into the store, aching for my cock to fill up your beaten pussy once again.
Making your way down the aisles, you are somehow wetter now, lost inside the memory of when you thought I’d fuck you next, but then I decided I needed to taste you yet again. Remembering the look on the top half of my face, two very determined eyes and a bald head, going to town on you and never letting up as you cum and cum and cum again, for Daddy.
Your sounds are almost in your ears again. Your pussy is soaked, just thinking of me and the discomfort of the soreness still left inside you subsides a bit.
Right now, as you walk through trying to focus on your errands your body is telling you — “stay with it.” All you would have to do is touch yourself for thirty seconds and you’d cum right here in public. I think you should do it…I really think you should.
Ache for me. Just ache for me. Soon enough…
I’ll leave you sore again.