Barely Touching

As dark night gives way to grey dawn I lie on my side, watching the approaching light and feeling you roll towards me. I'm still groggy, half asleep, only just aware of your presence as you move closer, the heat from your skin radiating towards me.

Slowly your chest closes in, pressing gently against my back, my long hair catching on your new grown stubble as you smell me. The sheet lifts and your hand hovers over me, not touching me, yet I can feel its caress, over my side, my stomach, my hip, my thighs, as though my skin were lifting from need to touch you. But that is not my role here. Even half awake I know my place, and I stay as still as I can whilst your ghost touch whispers over my skin, raising goose bumps and involuntary shivers.

When I think I can stand no more and will have to make a move I feel your hand slip under me, hovering, sliding slowly under my bottom and my body stirs on its own, despite my will to submit to this perfect torture. A purr catches in the back of my throat and I can't help but arch my back, my hips spreading, the pleasure opening me up to your touch as your fingers being to play their tune on me.

New moisture joins the old as contact is made, the purr becomes a moan, a throaty sob of desire as you stroke me, swirling the wetness over my lips, catching my pearl and making me flinch, sliding between the folds of flesh to find nerve endings, opening me further for this careful examination. It makes my body push back harder, the sensations building, juices flooding as my arse rises, your hand steadfastly maintaining its teasing distance, only the tiniest possible patch of skin in contact with me, gyrating, vibrating, tormenting, so much from just one tiny patch on one finger, yet it has become the centre of my universe.

You nuzzle the back of my neck and I feel the violent shivering begin, your breath hitting the spots you had sensitized so well the day before when you made me cum in public, high on the steps in the middle of town, amongst the lunching workers and busy shoppers, gasping like a fish out of water as I flooded my already damp underwear, oblivious to all who watched or passed me by.

This is your joy, your pleasure, to make me cum at your will, to override my own desire to resist, and have me spend every moment in ecstasy. And so I willingly martyr myself to my own guilty pleasures, these moments of bliss that make me crave you more each time you touch me.

My back arches further still, my thighs sliding on the sheet as my hand reaches down, finding yours, holding it close as I lift myself onto my knees. I bury my face in the pillow, anxious lest I disturb the other sleepers nearby. My moans are muffled by the bed as I push your finger back along my wet slit and into me, a second push easing it deeper inside, the need for release so urgent that I cannot wait a moment longer for this release. I try to ride your hand, frustrated by your keeping it resting on me, not letting me have the friction that I desire, ensuring my muscles have to flex, rippling over your digit to get the final touch that I need. Then I'm cumming, thrusting wantonly back against your hand, juices pouring out, feeling you in me, needing more but knowing it's all I'm going to get and grateful for it as my muscles clench, spasming in relief, sobbing my joy as you torture me.

When I can breathe again I slide gently back to the bed, and roll over to kiss you, my body trembling as I ease my pelvis against the erection I know I cannot have yet. Feeling your hardness and the way my thighs slide over each other with my moisture it happens again. My eyes close, my head tilts back, mouth opening as the aftershocks hit, wave after wave of pleasure tightening me, the lights bursting behind my eyes as every nerve in my body concentrates itself on my sex and the excitement you've caused it, my submission and your will the only things that divide us now, the only thing keeping your cock out of me.

Soon, I tell myself. Please, God, soon...