It starts slow, a gentle ripple that flows through my body. Deep inside, there is a desire that demands satisfaction. It is a primal urge that short-circuits the brain, removing all sense of logic or decency. I need this.
If only I could see myself. What would my brain think? Would it be embarrassed at the vision of me offered on all fours? Would it be impressed at the self-control that I am currently inflicting on myself? Or would it shut down, like it is now, releasing control to a more primal urge? I need this.
Part of me feels stupid. Part of me feels feral. I’m on all fours, and with a bit of luck, my ass will be the first thing he sees when he gets home. His feral but obedient fox, on all fours, waiting. I don’t know when he will be home. I know he will. Maybe in five minutes? Maybe in an hour? My body is screaming, the heat between my legs begging me: just five minutes with your fingers, please! No. I’ll wait. This isn’t edging, but it is close enough. The desire is mounting, the gentle ripple becoming rough waves, urging me to give in and to let my finger run wild between my legs. Not now. I’m resisting, and even the feeling of a drop running down my inner thigh isn’t quite enough for me to roll onto my back, but it is close. Very close.
I’m wearing a foxtail, a leather collar, and nothing else. My skin is exposed and hypersensitive, reacting to the slightest breeze. I can feel everything, the air moving gently inside his flat. I can hear everything, the lift outside his door going up and down. Would that be him now? Now, he normally takes the stairs. I close my eyes, and it heightens my senses. The smell of a candle burning, the flame flickering gently in the warm breeze, heightens my senses.
It’s the softest of sounds. The door to the stairs could have been anyone, but the key in the lock… Now I know it is him. He turns the key as I lift my ass in the air, curving my back as much as possible. I want to be a gift; I want to feel his desire. I want this. I need this.
The door opens with a gentle whoosh sound. My skin reacts to the air moving, gently caressing my ass and lower back, almost making me moan. A pause, the longest of waits. I can’t see him; I’m looking forward, letting my hair flow down my back. I know he likes the view. Did he see me? Did he notice? What if he wasn’t alone? A feeling of panic begins to take over. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea…
I hear the click of the door closing and the sound of the lock being turned. Whatever the result, there is no escape for me now. The wait is killing me, my spirit torn between my brain telling me to run and my pussy begging me to continue. Reason will not win today. It rarely does.
I feel his touch, my heightened senses multiplying the feeling. A gentle touch with the tip of his finger, following my hair from the shoulder, running down my back, barely touching my skin, continuing down… Is he using one finger? Two? I cannot tell; I feel his touch on my back, continuing downwards. I try lifting my ass to feel him as his finger runs down between my cheeks, but he silently evades my attempt. Damn.
The finger disappears. My skin waits. I know that he will touch me again, but I do not know where. I can almost hear the fabric of his polo shirt rustle as he moves. He touches me again on the other shoulder, making symmetric movements. I should have known. As his finger traces down my back, I can’t contain myself, and I let out a soft moan.
That moan was enough. My ears ring with the thud of a bag dropped to the floor. The click of a belt being released; I know that belt, we laughed about it, calling it the “easy access” one. A soft popping sound, the buttons being undone hastily. If I could move myself closer, I would, but he is just out of reach. Two dull thuds, close together, as he drops to his knees behind me. I feel his hand in my hair, playing, before his fingers close tightly, gripping me firmly, pulling my head back. Usually, this would be uncomfortable, but now? It’s funny how desire blurs the line between pain and pleasure.
His other hand grabs me firmly by the waist, and I feel his desire… The head of his cock fumbled, trying to take aim, slipping towards my desire, trying to take me. It takes two or three attempts as he positions himself, guiding my body with his strong hands so that I’m perfectly positioned. Then he pushes. I’m soaked, and I have been for an hour now, but his cock is dry, and despite my need and feral state, it doesn’t slide as quickly on the first thrust; the movement almost stuttered, driving me wild. After a few thrusts, he is wholly lubricated, and the movement of his shaft sends tingles throughout my body. His actions are accompanied by moans; both voices are gentle at the beginning but more feral as we continue. He becomes wild, taking me almost savagely, using me for my delight. I feel drunk. I’m the one putting him in this stare. I’m the one exciting him. I’m the one he is taking. And I am the one that will make him cum. He can use me however he sees fit, whenever, wherever. I need this.
I’m close to orgasm, the waves taking control, my body bracing. I will soon try to grip the floor as if hanging on to the edge of a cliff, holding on for dear life. My muscles will spasm, and I’ll feel those string hands hold on tight so I don’t escape. As if I would. He’ll pull me close, my back arching, one hand on my breasts, pinching my nipples hard while I hear him grunt in my ear. I won’t hold back; this will push me over the edge, and I’m not a quiet girl. Not in these conditions.
Then the music starts. Soft music, gentle, it reminds me of something. My surroundings begin to blur, my master begins to evaporate, and the candlelight begins to dim. I open my eyes. My alarm clock. No. No! Not now! I hit the snooze button by sheer reflex, and somewhere inside my confused neurons, I know I have eight minutes before the music starts again. I close my eyes, searching desperately for my scene, but darkness has replaced it. One hand grips a breast, the other darts between my legs, searching, but there is no one. I curl up, wanting to cry out in desperation. Why? Why now? Couldn’t the alarm have waited just a few more minutes? This medication has given me highly vivid dreams, but this was just cruel. My cat stirs at the end of the bed, but the other side is empty. I open one eye, trying to adapt to the soft light. 6:50AM. I move my fingers, and I feel myself damp, soaked. The sheets are a little wet where I was sleeping. Well, it looks like I might be a little late to the office this morning; my fingers have work to do as I turn onto my stomach, my index finger caressing my clitoris gently. This won’t take long, but I won’t stop at one. I need this.
