In bed at night you touch yourself. You wonder if I'm watching, if I saw you masturbating. You wonder if I'm now touching myself thinking about you. And I am.
I like to watch you, touching yourself. I like watching you lay in the semi-darkness in your bed at night. I listen to your breathing, the sounds of you sliding against the sheets, your breath, purring, your legs open. I can see you shaved, and I'm struck with a flash of excitement; my cock gets immediately, vigorously hard.
I can see the smooth bareness of your inner-thighs, your hand between them, your breasts and belly glowing, your eyes closed, your mouth slightly open, your hair around your face. I think about coming into the room, kneeling next to the bed, touching you, kissing you. I think about you sitting on my lap, rubbing yourself on my hardening cock, squeezing and pulling on it, making me hard. You ask me if I want you to put me in your mouth?
"Yes, put me in your mouth, baby."
And you do, saying in almost a whisper, "I love sucking you, baby."
I rub your beautiful pussy; I touch your legs, your round sexy feminine bottom, your back, the touch like electric velvet. You slide your bottom toward me so I can reach you, and I do. You use both hands on me, you lick the head of my cock and then take me into your mouth again as I feel the smooth-softness of you, and how wet you are. My fingers dance over your pussy, don't they. baby.
"Yeah, show me your pussy, baby," and you do.
"Were you touching yourself while you watched me?"
"I was."
You moan onto my cock pulsing in your hand, in your mouth.