if he were here

I'd sit on my big cane chair facing the bed naked in candlelight the candle would flicker and cast the shadow of my raised knee on the wall my feet would touch the chair near my bottom I would grin and delicately sip a Merlot. He'd lie back and watch with interest while I'd use my whole hand to gently caress back and forth the soft triangle of fuzz under my belly button and maybe I'd squeeze my muscles to make the pink wet slit make winking noises, quiet sticky little kisses and the room would smell like my pussy. He'd bring his face to my crotch and inhale because he likes the scent of cunt and he'd put his tongue there, right down the bottom to the very edge and so close to my arse that I'd wriggle and squeal and then he'd casually lick in one big line all the way to the top and we'd be lost, him in the taste and smell of vagina, me in the sensation of his slippery hot tongue pressing my flesh. He'd put his cock there and rub it till the blood made it so hard he'd feel it stretching tendons in his thighs and he'd get wet too - wet from my juice wet from his juice, from the little white droplets that would squeeze from his eye and make that throbbing head all the more tantalising...