Hurry Home
Oh how I long to taste my juices on your tongue. To feel your fingers trace my skin, your soft kisses framing my thighs
Hours seem like days, as the clock drips in slow motion on my wall.
I woke up to your smell on my pillow and closed my eyes to breathe you in. My smile greets the morning, knowing you will soon be here again.
It’s been only half a day, and I am longing to hold you in my harms again. Is this a drug? Are you my addiction or my truest desire?
Oh, how I long to taste my juices on your tongue again. To feel your fingers trace my skin, your soft kisses framing my thighs, and I slowly wrap them around your thick torso.
I lay here waiting patiently — trying to focus on my daily tasks, but all I can think of is you. I’m in a daze, thinking of your tender voice, asking how my day was, and suddenly hear the phone ring.
You call to tell me you miss me and can’t wait to see me again, and I am fluttering inside. “I was just thinking of you,” I say between my smiles.
“I haven’t stopped thinking of you, baby,” he whispers into the phone from work.
My legs begin to squirm in bed, and I can feel the warm glow of my nectar begin to whisper your name.
