i was going to write

I was going to write something sexy about lying topless in the bed wondering what she thinks of me when she’s writing messages to me. Is it a convenient release, a little hideaway where we can send dirty little secrets back and forth, to make the day go faster? She makes me blush undercover at work, but all I manage to do is to be cute.

I was going to write something sweet about how much I love the feeling of hands on my belly, my rounded, soft belly. It wants to be touched, loved by a smooth, searching hand. The arm that curves around my curves and makes me feel safe…

I was going to write something kinda naughty about how I love the feeling of fingers and fingertips on the underside of my breasts. The crease between my ribs and the sweet softness – I feel so beautiful lying on my back, wanting.

I was going to write something sneaky about how I was window shopping for harnesses and wondering what’s all the fuss about strap-ons. If I want to be with a girl, why do I want this so badly? Maybe it’s just that I want to be ready for anything, and I feel so unprepared for life as a sexually fulfilled being.

I was going to write, But it got late…

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