The things I would do for you

One would think that fucking and horniness would be inversely proportional, and maybe linear, but I don’t think it’s true. I think it might be a positive exponential function.

Eating too much: weiße Wurst mit süssem Senf

Drinking too much: Helles, half a litre, in the morning, for breakfast

Reading too much: White Teeth, Zadie Smith. Vorsprung (Rechtschreibreform spelling!)

Fucking too much: Last night: me on top, him holding my wrists behind my back.

And no, it’s never enough. I need him to come home right now so I can present him with my tender pussy, my aching tits and my hungry mouth. I always seem to provoke him…just the right amount of teasing, small insinuations whispered into his ear, a swift hard bite on the lower lip after a tender kiss…for him to want to slap me, and tug on my nipples, and hold me down into the pillows, ass slightly raised, him behind me pushing my knees apart, fucking me just so. One hand squeezing my ass, spreading my lips so he can watch his cock work in and out of my pussy. The other hand first at my neck, then the back of my head, fingers tangled in my messy morning hair, then full weight pressing into the small of my back so my haunches arch to meet his thrusts. Hitting my g-spot until I whine and moan and want to come and beg him to fuck me harder, like a child begging for a sweet. I used to tell him “I’m never horny in the morning” and “I doubt if you can make me come, it’s too early.” My, how things have changed.

Soon, off to Salzburg. It’s Mozart’s 250th birthday, don’t you know? Cold and snowy here…Portugal would be lovely this time of year, darling…