It doesn’t take much to get my motor going. Never has. I’m ready to go, always. I hunger for Him. I crave Him. I long for His hands, tongue, cock on me, in me. I’m not particular where they are, I just need them. His cock in my mouth, in my pussy, in my ass. Those hands on my neck, pulling my hair, spanking me. His tongue, wherever He wants it. I want to give Him everything He wants, because that is everything that I want. All the time.
I want this all. the. time.
By the time He gets home, I can barely contain myself. I do, obviously, the kids are here. He touches me, kisses me, talks to me, cooks with me- my mind always slipping into sex. He knows this and uses it to keep me on the brink for hours.
Watching television, under a blanket, He slips His hand in my pants, up my back, down between my legs. Caressing, rubbing, entering. Nonchalantly. We do the dance – I pretend like He isn’t making me crazy with need. But there is no hiding the wetness, the shallow breaths, the writhing. Then his hand returns to my back, stroking lovingly as if I’m not about to explode. I will do anything and this is where He likes me: Easy, pliable, silently begging (the kids are upstairs!). Works out well, because this is where I am most of the time. This is where I live, on edge for Him and waiting. He works hard all day, I have no intention of making Him work for any part of me. I am ready when He is (before He is, probably). I am here for His pleasure.
Never in my life have I been more proud to say it… I’m easy.
This is my first attempt at sharing any naughty fun. It is very true and I suppose it is a start, though I haven’t shared the details of the hot-as-hell sex scene that followed, or the way He took complete control, or the numerous orgasms… I’m just not sure where I want to draw the line.