Oxygen

A while ago… fuck, seems like a long time… I posted a whole epistle about how I don't have elaborate fantasies when I masturbate. I said something about them taking too much time and distracting from the experience.

I'm ashamed to say, dear reader, that I told a little white lie.

I discovered that on New Years Day. What follows is a loose string of thoughts, that hopefully form a coherent fantasy.

I'm in a room. Plush, warm and a lot of blankets, as I am wont to like in a room. Only in this room, I'm stark tits naked and blindfolded.

I know there's someone there. I just don't know who.

I can hear a soft chuckle and I deduce that it's a man who's now bent over my body.  And then I'm kissed in such a mindblowing fashion, that I'm sure that if I was standing up, I would have sunk to the floor and curled up in a ball. The softest lips, the hottest tongue. When this person parts with my lips, I squirm and sit up. My hands search for his body, but he's already gone.

But he comes back. And I can feel his lips on mine again. This time, he goes on the search for just the right spot to make me squirm again. I ache with want and desire to touch him, but he deflects my probing fingers.

"Not. Just. Yet." he whispers. At the sensation of his hot breath in my ear, I can feel my pussy moisten. I still have no idea who it is, but I know that his mouth needs to be all over me.

And it soon is. From biting and frenzied groping becomes licking and sucking, and I know I'll be covered in marks, but fuck that. I need this.

-

At this point, I felt the first waves of pleasure wash over me. The vibrations of my choice toy were driving me insane and my fingers were working away inside me. I wanted to come so bad.

As the fantasy grew intenser, as the mystery man worked me over, I felt myself tighten, deprived of any oxygen for one brief but frantic moment.

And then he fucked me. In my mind, he had a glorious cock and a mouth that could convince the most prudish of person to have him roger them in an alley behind the cinema.

When I came, I felt sated. Content. And worn out for another orgasm. Although I tried. I always try for seconds. I'm just that greedy.

I still don't know who the man in my fantasy was. But fuck, was he ever a good shag.

Republished with permission from Lady Laid Bare. Want to see your true tale of lust on Fleshbot? Contact us. Photo by John B. Root.