True Sex Stories: My Own Hands

I woke in the middle of the night.  The air was warm and heavy, too warm for this time of year.  I threw the covers from my body and let my naked skin breathe.

Running my hands over my skin, feeling the years of wear and awareness.  Running my nails gently over my breasts until my nipples grew hard and sensitive.  Rolling them between my fingers, feeling the aching spark between my legs.  I bent my knees, opening my legs as I slid one hand between my thighs.  Gently running my fingers through my labia, feeling the slick wetness of my own arousal.  There was nobody there, this was just me.

No thoughts of anyone else crawled into my head.  I did not concentrate on the fantasy of anyone else.  I was simply enjoying my own body.  The touch of my own hand.  My own sex.  My fingers circled my clit slowly.  Never rushing to that delicious end, but simply enjoying the sensation that it gives me.  Pushing my fingers into my cunt, feeling the warmth, the way the skin changes, the texture of my vagina.  The thin wetness of my sex dripping on the palm of my hand.

My nipples ached as I pinched and stroked them and my clit started to burn as the scent of my sex filled my senses.  I kept my slow steady pace, never rushing to finish this race, but knowing that it would come.  I know how to please myself.  I know my body.  For all that I give of my self, of my body, my sex is my own.

My legs fell open widers and my fingers thrust in and out of my cunt.  My back arched instinctively and my body answered it's call.  I rolled to my side, my wet fingers resting on my thighs, my body tingling and the air caressing my damp skin.

I drifted back to sleep.

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