I think about you when I touch myself. Not just occasionally, every single time. I imagine your warm wet tongue flicking my clit. I’m clenching and squirming and crying out. I almost reach climax when you pull back and look at me dead in the eye with that sexy stare. I’m aching for you to plunge inside of me. And then you do and I’m whole again. There’s nothing but beautiful pleasure after that. We both perform tirelessly because we both missed this so much. We’re hot and sweaty but still fucking, for hours. I reach orgasm four glorious times. Even when I’m not climbing I don’t want to think about stopping. This is too much fun. I say your name and my voice is hoarse from moaning and screaming. You clasp your big hand around my throat and squeeze. Not enough to do any harm, just enough to make me feel completely submitted and vulnerable. I love it! You squeeze harder. I’m choking. It’s lovely. We fuck like animals before you finally explode all over me. We’re both panting as you collapse next to me on our bed. We both start to laugh, we say I love you. And there’s not an ounce of doubt in any cell of my body.
Then it’s over and I wake up to find it was all a dream.