I Need You

There was a woman I knew, whom I had carried on a relationship of sorts for quite awhile. She was beautiful, and alluring, and distant. We connected instantly on a sexual level, and didn't care much for inhibitions, though she did seem to take on a passive role more often than not.

I would often talk dirty to her, filling her head up with all sorts of stories and scenarios, which would seem to bring new life and imagination, the more it tended to drift off into my bisexuality, the more turned on she would get. In my experience, to find something who finds that aspect of your life sexy, is rare, and highly desirable.

In any case, over time, it seemed as though her emotional distance, which I would never press her on, grew. We never fought, never argued, never really talked about what mattered I suppose.

At one point I was fed up, and felt that she was finally going to put an end to things - so I beat her to the punch, and harshly cut things off without any further conversation.

It was months until I came across her at a social function. I felt shocked to see her, embarrassed about my behaviour, and longed for a better shot at closure. So I broke the ice.

She was warm and forgiving but seemed unsure of what to make of it all. When the party died down and she was about to leave, she approached and suggested we get together some time. Then there was a hug. That went on for far too long. Our eye contact afterwards felt all too familiar. So we kissed.

The social niceties that came afterward fogged my brain until I found myself at home, and reeling from what just happened. I'd poured myself a drink and crawled into bed with my laptop when I heard my email ding.

She had written me a simple query:

"What do you want from me?"

My response was as follows...

******

I need you to look up at me and say five simple words.

"I want to fuck you"

I need your intent and desire to be clear, as you push me to my knees in front of you, I need you to look down upon me with demanding eyes, as instructions to begin... now.

I would bury my face under your skirt, mashing my lips to your mound, meeting your wetness with my tongue, inhaling the muskiness of your panties in a single breath. I would grab at the elastic band and tear away at the obstacles, hungrily lapping, tonguing, biting. My enthusiasm painful, but a palm against the top of my head would tell me to slow down and enjoy myself.

I need you to be forceful, pushing me away, before yanking my clothes off, stripping me bare, and putting me on my back as you peel down to a bra. I need to feel you straddle me, grab my cock and guide it into your cunt. To slowly slide down my girth until I'm fully inside you, and unable to speak.

I need you to slowly build, to ride me at a growing pace, to look me dead in the eye as your hand circles my neck, I need to understand how badly you want to use me, to get me off, to fuck me. I need you to make me yours, to sacrifice ego for ecstasy. I need you to own me, as I groan and whimper, releasing into you.

Flush and spent, my softening cock slipping out, your body moving over mine until you land your messy puffy lips over my face, I need you to push my boundaries. I need to serve you with my mouth, to taste myself while eagerly bringing you closer and closer to the edge of your own pleasure. I need to hear you moan as permission to lick and nibble harder, and faster. I need to feel you shake and bellow as I feel you tense and relax, sensitively spasming across my lips until you dismount, unable to take any more contact.

I need to calm my panting breath with yours, to gingerly reconnect, to move closer beside you, wrapped in each other, and dissolved in relief.

I need to feel how much you need me too.

******

I hit send before common sense kicked in, closing my laptop and my eyes, drifting off before regret found me. Every written word was a risk, but it was all part of a truth that I felt was well worth it.

Waking the next day in a fog, I checked my email and saw that she had written me back...