Erotica for women

Playing out the fantasies in my mind may drive me slowly into that place that will be hard to return from. I’m consumed by the way images of intimacy run through my mind’s eye. To have a man touch me, even on accident can cause this active imagination to take off.

Many times, while lying in bed wide awake, I let my hands trace over my body. The need to be touched starts at birth and is a feeling no one should ever be without. Of course, in my mind, it is a faceless lover learning about my body through the simple touching of my soft skin. It’s his way of learning about every reaction I have. I watch him as he sees every movement. How my nipples jump to attention as he passes his fingers over them so lightly. As his hands slide slowly down my body to the light hair at the "v" between my legs. Oh yes, I can feel the moistness starting deep in my pussy.

I use my own long and slender fingers to lightly rub that silky hair. I hear my guttural moans as they issue from deep in my throat. I feel myself arch to meet my touch. I feel my hips move to meet every thrust of my fingers. As the thrusting becomes faster and harder, I can hear the sweet juices multiplying. The images of a long and hard shaft sliding in and out, becoming wetter and wetter as it is coated with my juice causes a tremendous gush.

As I capture the juices in the palm of my hand, I bring the palm of my hand to my face and I slowly lick the juice from my palm and savor the sweet taste. As I am enjoying the tasting of myself, my left hand continues to rub the folds of my pussy lips coating my left hand with milky juice. I bring both hands up and bury my face in the marvelous smells of sex. Oh my, how I miss these sweet smells when the juice of a man and woman mix. I need the taste of them both on my tongue. I want those juices traced over the lips of my mouth allowing my tongue to slowly lick them off.

My mouth hungers to be ravaged in the deep and passionate kiss exchanged during the throes of passion. I am consumed by visions of eyes locked together as climax is reached at the same time. As I think these thoughts, my body gives one final shudder as I cum again. Consumed, on fire, needing completion that can only be satisfied by living my fantasies. Consumed with thoughts of making love with a man that sparks everything in me. Consumed with his soft touch bringing me down from a place of total bliss.

I close my eyes, and as the tears fall gently, I remember such passions shared. I weep for the love that has been lost. I cry silently and ask to be released from the fantasy. I dare to hope that the day will come when I am set free to love again.

I am consumed with an overwhelming need to be released from this jail I have been sentenced to.