The Room

You walk into your bedroom and see me on the bed.  Face down, ass in the air, panties around my ankles.
I’m rubbing my clit and dripping wet.  
All you can see is access to my tight, yet alluring asshole.
 
Don’t say a word. I don’t want to know you're there. Watching, waiting. Yet for some reason, I can taste your presence, and it’s so tantalizing.
 
You're staring and I can sense temptation.  I imagine you touching yourself. Grip yourself hard, as I fondle my creamy pussy.  I can feel you walking closer now.  
You know I'm craving your asshole kisses.  
 
You sinfully lick my ass cheeks. I’m not startled though.  I knew you would come for me. Your hands start to work their way around my wet, warm openings and you start to grind.  
But do NOT fuck me just yet.  
I want your moist mouth teasing me some more. I want to quiver off your toxic tongue and tremble with lust. I beg you to press your hard, starving cock against me.  Slowly working me with your tip, teasing my hole.  
Playing me senseless.
 
I’ve become so hot, you know you could just slip yourself right in.  My ass is so ready for you baby.  
It’s visibly pulsating.  
Fuck my ass right now. Corrupt me.
I want you so deep inside me, I can feel you fucking my soul.  
 
I invite you in by spreading my ass cheeks wide open for you.  And your entrance; simply luscious. You fit so perfectly, the missing piece to my puzzle. I can’t seem to consume enough.  My body is sucking you in deeper, squeezing and grasping around your cock so tight. Fuck me faster. Grab my hips and submerge yourself.  You violate me in the sweetest way.  
I'm getting a buzz off this beating.  
 
Your body is so tense against mine, my insides feel you swelling.  Don’t hold off much longer, I need you to shoot your hot cum far inside me.  
Yes. Just like that. Fill me up.  I need you rushing in every inch of my veins.  I need to feel you oozing throughout my body. I’m addicted, and I beg you to stay inside me. I don't want this high to end.  
 
I close my eyes shut. I don't need to turn around.  
But I know it’s you.  
After all, the image of you has been sketched into every ounce of my sanity.