Let's Play

[davelit]

Let's Play Two

Two pages! Still lusting. Here's where we started, in case you don't want to go back:

I'm Dave. 38, Canadian, and looking to play/chat with a woman of similar interests. Not picky about age or body type, just be you. I like descriptive and dirty, and hopefully you do too. A good give and take, where we can indulge our darkest wants.

I have pockets of time during the day where I can respond quickly, and others where I might disappear into life and work for a bit. I'm married, for whatever it's worth. Have done this elsewhere, but not here. Here's something of what I like to hopefully whet your appetite. Message me if you want to play, or even if you just like it and want to tell me that.

****

I have a problem. Maybe you can help.

I'm thinking of you, wanting you, constantly. When we're together, or alone, lusting over you, undressing you with my eyes and mind, turning even the most innocent situations into something carnal and wanton and needy.

Do you know what you do to me? When we're out together, dress clinging to you, the hint of a smile as you see my gaze wander, knowing what I want. To drag you into the nearest dark room, lips on yours before you can object, hands roaming, groping, desperate for you, right there. I don't care that we're not alone, don't care that we can't or shouldn't, I need you that much that I can't wait. Hands under your skirt, dress hiked up, for you to feel me, feel how hard you get me.

Or stuck at home, on a day bogged down by laundry and cleaning and responsibility. You don't dress up, but I still simmer for you. Those jeans, clinging to your hips, and I want you against the wall, there into the hallway, hands yanking at those jeans, stripping you. For you to inhale when I drop to my knees, almost tearing at your panties in desperation, burying my face between your legs. Licking, tasting, wanting you as distracted as I've been all day, taking us away from this rote routine to something else.

It could be anywhere, anytime. But know that I want you. And won't stop until I have you.

 

[davelit]

Against The Car

Maybe a change of scenery would work for you?

*****

It's been nice to get out, just us. The first time in a while, no kids or responsibilities pulling at our time. Soon, we'll be back into life, the wheel turning as we go through each day.

But what if we didn't go back? What if we just enjoyed the here and now? Because I want to enjoy you, here and now.

Sure, the back seat windows are tinted, two levels down in this god-awful parkade. But we'll get there. You've been smacking my hand from your ass all day, and now, I want to feel it. Squeeze, hard, pulling your hip against me as my lips meet yours. Then pull more, yanking on those fucking leggings, because I want them off.

What if we didn't make it to the back seat? If I just had you, right against the side of your SUV? God, I want to have you moan, open, splayed for me, because of me, because of a want I can never share during our routine, daily life. I'm hard, and hungry, and want you, so often. So when we leave, the moment is gone, and your leggings are intact.

So I'm going to take you, right against your car. Because we both want it.

 

[davelit]

Selfish

I want to be selfish. Maybe you'll enjoy it too.

***

It's not just that I want you. That I fantasize about you constantly, marinating in my lusty need for you all day, waiting for a moment to have you like I long for. Lips on yours, hands all over you, feeling the curves and crevices of you, familiar and still so damn exciting.

I want the urgency, to not stop when I want you. To hear the fabric of your clothes, your shirt tearing, your leggings ripping, needing that access to your breasts or your pussy or your ass, just taking you right there. What if it was selfish, to yank your legs open, lick and lick, slurping, eating you out for my pleasure as much as yours? I want that, to just sate myself in you, on you, for you to know how much I ache for you.

I want your gasps, your moans, your juices, the smell and sound of you when I enjoy myself. You might enjoy it, but I'm going to enjoy it more.

 

[davelit]

Rip

What if I couldn't wait?

***

I want to rip your clothes off. It's so primal and urgent and wanton, and I want it. Anything you wear, whatever you're doing, just to strip you and have you right now. Something tight on your body, simple but flattering, and my blood boils.

That plain, unassuming shirt, to reach for the neck, and pull, tear it open, lips on yours to cover your gasp of surprise, needing to get my hands on you right now. Those leggings, tight on your hips, to hear the fabric come apart, wedge my face between your legs and eat you out, pull at your panties until they're gone so I can taste you.

I want you like that, exposed, curves and skin open and available to be, to ravish and lick and feel and have again and again. And it starts with me, getting my hands on your, so I can rip your clothes off and take you right here and now.

 

[davelit]

No Netflix For You

Stuck watching streaming? Don't be

*****

What are you watching? You've been at that a while, haven't you? Maybe it's time we did something else. Something a little more involved. You can finish the season later. Because I don't want to wait.

I've been sitting here, marinating in all my sordid fantasies of you. Tracing every outline of you under those unassuming clothes, that shirt you've worn a lot, those leggings that you like. You can have your time to relax, babe, you deserve it. Just know that I want you. Pinned back on the couch, hear that gasp of surprise when I yank at those leggings, bury my face between your legs and lick, lick until I get you grinding and grabbing and moaning for me as I eat you out. It's what I've been thinking about all afternoon.

I can't stop there. All those fantasies have me a little hard up. And I love not waiting, not giving you even a moment to breathe, after pushing you to that glorious height, seeing you flush and heaving and used, sliding right inside you, length gripped perfectly as I fuck you right there. Hands on yours, eyes burning into you, tits bouncing as I absolutely rail you, split you again, and again, not waiting until tonight or tomorrow or a better place and time.

So hit pause on the streaming, babe. I need to binge on your body, because I can't get enough of you.

 

[davelit]

Selfish

Here's what I really want.

*****

You think this is for you. That your hands in my hair, face wedged between your thighs, you grinding into me on the bed, moaning and writhing in ecstasy as I eat you out means that you're in control. That your pleasure, your orgasms are for you and you only.

But that's not it. My surprising you, yanking at those jeans as I get you where I want, hands digging into your thighs as your pussy soaks my lips and tongue, pushing you to that glorious peak was only the start. Just the first part of my animal, baser need for you, for that pussy of yours that you've been hiding from me, under pants or a skirt or whatever you're wearing today.

Even after your fingers clench, and you moan in lustful pleasure, I'm not nearly done. I want you on your back, legs spread, ready to accept my own need, pinning your hands back and taking you. Worked up and groaning as our hips smack, my erection abusing your sore, swollen cunt, not caring about whether you want it.

And even then, as my own, desperate need spurts into you, I can't stop. I won't stop. Yanking your legs apart, flush and soaked, and eating you out again, crazed, only my need for you mattering. To push you to that height, again, feel my cock swell at your taste, your feel, how your moans are both pained and needy, forced to take my hunger.

It's not for you. It's for me. Because your pussy is mine, whenever and however I want it. And you need to remember that.

 

[davelit]

Needing You At Home

We could enjoy ourselves at home.

*****

My need for you itches at me. Claws, scratches, reminding me every moment you're around. I feel like I can sense you, around the house, that you heighten my senses with your presence. You can try, sometimes, but you don't need to. My eyes, my mind, always come back to you. I hunger for more.

There's not a room in the house I haven't wanted you, haven't thought of having you. Eyes devouring your body, through whatever clothes you throw on for a day, thinking of where and how I could enjoy you.

Passing in the hallway, spinning you against a wall, feel my hands insistent through your jeans, your shirt, feeling every curve of you as I take you right there. Ambush you when you come out of the shower, gloriously naked and flush, hear your chuckling protest before I bury my face between your legs and lick, your hands in my hair as mine take your hips, needing your taste on me. Or leggings- god, those fucking leggings- lounging on the couch, wishing I could rip them before I eat you out, taking you away from your Netflix marathon.

In the kitchen, rummaging around in a drawer, grabbing your hair and sliding my cock into your mouth. Keeping you in bed, all day, dragging you back once I'm ready for more. Turning your run into some different cardio, sliding that sports bra up so I can fuck your tits. All of it. I want all of it, and so much more.

But my hunger doesn't stop. It might lay dormant for a time, sated by you, the only one who can satisfy me. But I always want you more. And that's what makes it so delicious.

 

[davelit]

A Morning In

Have some time on a weekend? I have some ideas.

*****

It's the weekend. Fucking finally. Running around all week, work and life keeping both of us from having much time, but now, lying in bed, clock comfortably past seven am as we doze, I like that we've got some time. And oh, do I have some ideas. I've wanted you all week, and now I'm going to have you.

Right there on the bed, yank the sheets back. God, I love your body, hiding beneath whatever you wear, or here, more exposed under that nightshirt, until I yank at those panties. Bury my face between your legs and lick, taste, est you out right on the bed.

Do you know how long I've wanted this, knowing your pussy is hiding under snug jeans or swishing skirts or tight leggings, thinking about just ripping those leggings open and eating you out right there? And now, I can't hold back, wanting to shove you over that edge, make you feel how much I want it before I pin your wrists back and slide right into you. Every inch, all for you, make you feel days of need as I move in and out, use you like I want.

In the shower, my eyes raking over you. Taking every contour of you through that frosted glass, steamed up, you getting clean and ready for the day. God, I enjoy ogling you shamelessly like this, having a moment to drink you in, like a starving man in the desert seeing water for the first time in weeks.

And it's the water that pushes me, seeing you rinse the soap from your chest, before I need it. Just pull that shower door open, pin you against the shower wall, dive on your chest, sucking hard nipples, greedily pawing at your tits.

You know I can't resist staring, imagining the weight of them under tasteful shirts or those summery dresses you like, or even the fall sweaters you're starting to get from your closet. How I like to accidentally brush against you, knowing how full they feel in my hands, and the thrill of feeling your nipples harden. And here, finally, able to take my fill, wanting you gasping and pulling and writhing under me until I grab your hips and impale you, see your breasts bounce as you take my arousal.

When you get ready, fussing over yourself in front of the mirror. Even on a day off, you take the time, wanting to look perfect. And you do, even there, in unassuming clothes, a day of responsibility and errands calling for jeans or yoga pants, something comfortable.

And I like those jeans, as you know. Eyes glued to your hips constantly, hand brushing against your backside, or more, greedy handfuls of your ass so you know how I lust over your body. And here, as I go to the shower, I can't resist, yanking those jeans back down and splitting you, grabbing your hips and sliding right into your cunt. My hands are always greedy on you, groping, feeling, needing to explore you, sliding down to those hips and smacking your ass as I move, so worked up I couldn't wait until you were dressed.

And I can't wait, don't want to, now that we have time this morning. I want you here, now, to have you completely even before we've left the bedroom. So let's stay in this morning.

 

[davelit]

Dress Down

We don't need to work too hard at it, do we?

*****

You can dress up. I know that. I do enjoy when you take time on you, fix your hair, pick an outfit that makes you look even better than you do already.

But you know, don't you? You know that I'm looking at you all day, no matter how you're dressed. Staring through those clothes, that shirt you just threw on, those leggings you like lounging around the house on. Seeing every curve if you, imagining how you would feel under my roaming hands or eager lips.

It's not proper, how I think about you. Thinking about devouring your lips, grabbing at your ass as I pass you in the hallway. Sneaking up behind you, reaching around to feel the weight of your tits under my hungry hands, bunching your shirt as I grope you. Or diving at your waist, yanking your leggings down, hungry to be between your legs right there, to lick you and fuck you until my need for you is sated.

So you don't need to dress up. I'm just going to undress you anyway, with my eyes and my hands.

 

[davelit]

Why Wait?

I want to lust after you. To objectify you in ways I shouldn't or can't normally. To take you from normal and routine to exciting and needy and desperate, because I want you like that.

You should know what I want. How any moment, any time can be a place I enjoy you, want you, would have you. That my eyes, my thoughts, are roaming over your body, stirring depraved fantasies that we definitely shouldn't act on. How I see your face, your lips, your chest, your hips, under that outfit you chose, imagine how you would feel under my hands, my mouth. How it would feel to rip your shirt open, yank your jeans down, or rip those snug leggings and ravish you right here, right now. All that, and more.

Why shouldn't we enjoy ourselves? What's stopping you from letting me have you, letting me enjoy you, letting me force you to that glorious pleasure, right now? You want it like I do, so let's go.

 

[davelit]

Lusting Constantly For You

You're my type, even if you don't think you are. So let's have some fun.

*****

I want you to know how much I want you. How much I fantasize about you, all day. Hard as a rock as my eyes rake over your body, hiding under whatever innocent outfits you've picked, or thinking about it as we go about our responsibilities. Fuck, I want to burn for you.

I'm hungry for you, and you need to fucking know it. Feel the heat of my gaze, at your waist, not hiding what I want. Until I can't take it, and dive, right at you, yanking those fucking jeans down, licking and sucking at your pussy. I'll rip your panties off if I have to, get to that cunt you've been hiding from me, the heat taunting me constantly as I see you.

Do you like that I want to eat you out first? Slurp and lick at you until you can't take it any more? But I can't be done. I'm still hard. Pin you back, take you there, lips on yours, hands on your chest, erection buried in your soaked cunt, making you take it. You need to take it, and you will, whether you ask for it or not.

So I don't want to fucking wait. Why should we? You're right here, so let's do it.

 

[davelit]

More need

If you want to be wanted, let's chat.

****

Did you think I didn't notice you? Parading around, flaunting your body all day. You didn't dress up, sure. Snug leggings and that tank top, just "lounging". Like you didn't want me to burn for you, stare through that thin fabric, devour your body with my mind until I can't take it.

And you want that, don't you? To push me until I need to have you. Just lunge at you, dig into the fabric of whatever I get first. Rip your shirt open and grope you, lips descending on yours as my hands get all over your body. Before I pin you against the wall, fuck you right there.

Or maybe it's those leggings, yanking them, dragging you to the ground and yanking your legs apart, those legs you've been taunting me with all day. Eat you out, make you writhe, cum all over my face and fingers before I pound you.

 

[davelit]

Don't you want it too?

****

I don't want to think about it any more. Work, family, politics, pandemic, any of it. I just want to feel, act, desire you and have you, enjoy you the way we both really want.

You might have all those things: education, work, maybe a family, maybe someone you come home to. Maybe we even talk about it, do that thing where we share about our lives. Sometimes I welcome it, and others, I'm just looking at you, lusting, staring through those sweaters or jeans or seeing your legs disappear under that dress and wishing they were over my shoulders instead.

Why can't it be that? Why can't you know how I want to have you, to just take you right there instead of going through the motions? To say what I really want, to tear that sweater open and dive into your chest, grab your ass in those snug jeans, grab your head and put my cock in your mouth, or bend you over, push that skirt up and rail you. And so much more.

Even if you're a wife or mother or girlfriend, I still fantasize, still just, still want you. To surrender to that instinct and have you, rip your clothes off and ravish you right now.

 

[davelit]

I want to lust after you. To take you from whatever place or situation you're in, whatever you're doing or being or usually have to be, and pervert it into an urgent, passionate moment, let you take everything I think and want from you.

You want it too, don't you? To have me reduce you to your body, how I'd grope you and feel you up through that snug sweater and jeans, push that skirt or dress up and eat you out, outline your body through the comfortable clothes you wear before I tear your shirt open and feast on your chest.

Why can't we have that need? That I might see your lips and want to slide my cock between them, bury my hands in that long hair and fuck your mouth like your pussy. Or have you, on your back, dress up and tits squeezed in my hands as I move, in and out of you. I need it, need you that badly.

You might be a wife or a mother or a student or a boss or a drone, and it might even be interesting. But I want to burn for you, need you, fantasize after you even in this mundane moment we find ourselves in. That no matter who you are or what you do, I want you, right here and now, and I can prove it to you.

 

[davelit]

Having had one spectacular exchange here, why not try to find another? Here's something a bit different.

*****


I love your mouth. It's right there. As much as I enjoy fantasizing about your entire body, sometimes I just get stuck at your mouth. Seeing your lips, imagining them hungry, wanting, warm, sliding over my erection as I fuck your face.

You think the ponytail is going to discourage me, the plain white shirt, telling me that we need to clean, get things done today. And maybe we do, but I don't care. Maybe I see you on your knees, scrubbing, and just want to grab that ponytail, hear you gasp in surprise as I force my cock into your mouth, using the most available hole because it's right there.

You work, laptop open, glasses, sweater, trying to look as unappealing as possible. But again your mouth is there, pursed, focusing, again the responsible one of us. And I want to get my hand in your hair, paw at your chest in that sweater, have you take care of the need you always stir in me.

But why stop there? You're about to go out, but you should take care of me first, all dressed up and getting me hard. Maybe I have something else for you before dinner. Or it's waking you up, morning wood smacking against your lips, waiting for the telltale groan of you coming awake before I slide in.

When I want your mouth on my cock, I want it now. And nothing will stop me from having it.

 

[davelit]

Another setup that maybe you'll enjoy.

*****

*Jeans. Snug around her crotch. Fingers under the waist, pull, maybe back against the wall before I lick and-*

I shake my head. I can't think. She walks by, and I go back to typing, to working, to anything but thinking about this desire I have. It's scratching, clawing at me, constantly nagging at the back of my mind, and I can't avoid it.

I should be working. I am, technically, half-listening to a meeting as I sit in the library. But I know how this goes. I know how it's going to go. Someone likes to hear their voice, and they'll go on, and I won't need to hear any of it.

I had to leave the house. Too many distractions. My wife, also working from home, in snug black leggings that pushed me to this need. Just pin her against the counter, dive at her hips, lick her right through that fucking thin spandex and make her *feel* how bad I need it.

*Skirt. I like the access. And how thick her thighs are, fuck. I bet they would feel good around my head, drag her down to the carpet, bury my head under that skirt and lick-*

My hand shakes a little, and I flex it. I needed it bad. Not sex- well, not just sex. But I was hungry. I needed to feed. And nearly every woman that passed by, every woman I knew or saw, fed my insane lust to eat pussy.

I'd eaten my wife out, for the first time in ages last week, and it felt so damn good. She liked that I was eager, liked that I wanted it. But even she was behind a wall, saving it for nights and weekends and times we could plan. I wanted *more*. I needed more.

I have to speak, and I do, bringing my part to a work meeting that I barely cared about. Even as I talk, I look around. The library was milling. Moms, housewives, professors, lawyers, all of them, any of them were targets for my lust, for this desire I can't think about or control, eyes and thoughts burning holes into their hips, imagining what lies beneath the fabric that keeps their core from my mouth.

But you know, don't you. Who are you? How do you know? And how do you push me over the edge into something we both really want?

 

[davelit]

Maybe you want it like this too.

*****

Look, I'm in *that* mood. Okay? I don't want candles and romance and foreplay and all the things that make someone a good partner and lover. I want to be selfish. I want to eat you out.

You don't think that's selfish, or indulgent? Oh, it is for me. I want it hot, and fast, and urgent, to look you over and have you know exactly what I want. When my gaze stops at your hips, staring holes in whatever you're wearing, having not remotely thought about being wanted that desperately. That I'd be worked up by swishing skirts and bare legs, or the way the fabric hugs your crotch, your pussy right fucking *there* and not being exposed, licked, you pushed to pleasure that you didn't expect or need because I fucking want it.

And I do want it. To surrender to that, right in front of everyone. To be so fucking jacked up with need I yank those leggings down, or rip them open, or push your skirt up so I can yank your legs apart, bury my face in you and eat, lick and slurp and suck without thinking or asking, just taking all those juices I know you can give me.

Why stop there? Why stop at one? When I could just bury myself in you, use you because I need to, already so lost to this I can't stop? This is how bad I feel it, what kind of mood I'm in. So let's fucking go.

 

[davelit]

The Hunger

It's bad today. The hunger, the need for your pussy, the urge that I have to hide because it might be too much for some people. But you see it, don't you? Behind our small talk and whatever routine that we have to do. That my gaze doesn't stop going to your hips, whether they're under leggings or a jeans or a dress or whatever you're wearing because all of it fucking makes me crazy.

Sure, we should say it's degrading, reducing you to one part of you, fantasizing about what it would be like to just let that hunger go, to dive at your hips, be so fucking tilted by the way the fabric of those pants hug your crotch that I *need* to get at you, pin you against the closest wall or floor or couch or bed or whatfuckingever to taste you, wedge my face between your thighs and eat and lick and take, forcing a pleasure you may not want or need or feel until I slurp and suck at you.

Eat. Fuck. Eat. Fuck. I want this lusty cycle of desire, to just indulge myself in you, feast and pound and use and have you until you fucking beg me to relent, and even then keep at you for more. Did you know that's what you do to me? That soft, snug fabric around your crotch and ass just sets me off, pushes me to this sordid desire, wanting to hear those wet sounds, your lusty moans, feel clenching thighs and the way you grip me when my cock bottoms out in you?

And why stop at one? How even when I've released in you, I want to push your legs open for more, taste and use your pussy to get more from you. More pleasure, more of those juices, feeling my need stir because eating you out gets me so fucking worked up I need more from you and your body.

If this kind of hunger doesn't frighten you, then come find me. I want you this badly, so let's go.

 

[davelit]

I want you. Why does it need to be more complicated than that? I want to give in to the fantasies I would have about you, not worry about why we can't or shouldn't do it, that voice that says not here or now.

I want to shamelessly lust over you, exactly how you are. Whether you're in bed and dozing, or going about your day, letting my need just simmer and overwhelm you, stripping you with my eyes before I get to doing it with my hands. Devouring every curve and contour of you before I just let go, pinning you against the closest wall or floor or couch or bed, lips on yours as I paw at your body desperately, so pent up I can't fucking wait.

If you want me to tell you everything I would do, how I would want to yank your legs open and feast on your pussy and pound you, pull your open mouth onto my cock, or rip your sweater open before I maul your tits and slide my erection between them, don't wait. Let's go. Right fucking now.

 

[davelit]

It's been a day. And you being here doesn't help. You don't even try, and you just radiate sex, hiding under whatever outfit you just threw on today, lounging around the house just surviving the weekend. Every movement, every hint of bare skin, every clingy or swishy piece of fabric hugging your body just making me want you more.

God, I can't wait until we're alone, and I can fucking ambush you. Back you against the closest wall or couch or bed or table or what-fucking-ever is there, finally able to get my hands on your body. Is it your top or your pants? I've wanted to tear your shirt open all day, get at those tits you hide from me all the time, feel you up like we both want.

Or it's your hips, as I stumble, hearing the satisfying rip of the fabric at your crotch, dive in face first, gripping your ass and eating your pussy until you feel it like I do. The hunger I have for you, that I need to make you feel, take every bit of it until we're both absolutely sated.

I want you on your back, taking it, split by my tongue or my cock or whatever I can use to fully enjoy your body, right fucking here. I can't wait, don't want to wait, need to tear your clothes off and use you again and again and again. If you need it, just *tell* me.

 

[Joel359]

Let's Play Two

Two pages! Still lusting. Here's where we started, in case you don't want to go back:

I'm Dave. 38, Canadian, and looking to play/chat with a woman of similar interests. Not picky about age or body type, just be you. I like descriptive and dirty, and hopefully you do too. A good give and take, where we can indulge our darkest wants.

I have pockets of time during the day where I can respond quickly, and others where I might disappear into life and work for a bit. I'm married, for whatever it's worth. Have done this elsewhere, but not here. Here's something of what I like to hopefully whet your appetite. Message me if you want to play, or even if you just like it and want to tell me that.

****

I have a problem. Maybe you can help.

I'm thinking of you, wanting you, constantly. When we're together, or alone, lusting over you, undressing you with my eyes and mind, turning even the most innocent situations into something carnal and wanton and needy.

Do you know what you do to me? When we're out together, dress clinging to you, the hint of a smile as you see my gaze wander, knowing what I want. To drag you into the nearest dark room, lips on yours before you can object, hands roaming, groping, desperate for you, right there. I don't care that we're not alone, don't care that we can't or shouldn't, I need you that much that I can't wait. Hands under your skirt, dress hiked up, for you to feel me, feel how hard you get me.

Or stuck at home, on a day bogged down by laundry and cleaning and responsibility. You don't dress up, but I still simmer for you. Those jeans, clinging to your hips, and I want you against the wall, there into the hallway, hands yanking at those jeans, stripping you. For you to inhale when I drop to my knees, almost tearing at your panties in desperation, burying my face between your legs. Licking, tasting, wanting you as distracted as I've been all day, taking us away from this rote routine to something else.

It could be anywhere, anytime. But know that I want you. And won't stop until I have you.

Every step has a purpose. If your purpose is me then every step has to be in my direction! I will be here with those same tight jeans!

 

[Joel359]

It's been a day. And you being here doesn't help. You don't even try, and you just radiate sex, hiding under whatever outfit you just threw on today, lounging around the house just surviving the weekend. Every movement, every hint of bare skin, every clingy or swishy piece of fabric hugging your body just making me want you more.

God, I can't wait until we're alone, and I can fucking ambush you. Back you against the closest wall or couch or bed or table or what-fucking-ever is there, finally able to get my hands on your body. Is it your top or your pants? I've wanted to tear your shirt open all day, get at those tits you hide from me all the time, feel you up like we both want.

Or it's your hips, as I stumble, hearing the satisfying rip of the fabric at your crotch, dive in face first, gripping your ass and eating your pussy until you feel it like I do. The hunger I have for you, that I need to make you feel, take every bit of it until we're both absolutely sated.

I want you on your back, taking it, split by my tongue or my cock or whatever I can use to fully enjoy your body, right fucking here. I can't wait, don't want to wait, need to tear your clothes off and use you again and again and again. If you need it, just *tell* me.

Possession is like luck. You have to seize it. It's not going to change the world for your lust or day dreams right? The words are like the steps both literally and figuratively. Weave that inherent thread

 

[davelit]

I don't want to hide how much I need you. I want you to feel my hunger, my need, radiating off me as my eyes rove over your body. Drinking in every contour of you, selfish in how I ogle you, not caring about anything but what I want from you. To take every bit of pleasure I can get, force it onto you, into you, all need and lust and urgency.

Just dive at your hips, clingy jeans or leggings doing absolutely nothing to hide the heat between your legs, clawing and yanking and ripping at the fabric to get at your crotch. Back on the couch, against a wall, wherever I can get you, just bury my face in there and eat, lap up your pussy until you're as greedy as I am. The grinding of your hips maybe first trying to push me away, then pulling me in, your fingers gripping my hair like mine grips your ass, slurping and sucking and licking right there.

And then up to split you, getting so hard from finally eating you out that I have to take you, barely waiting after one orgasm to take mine, rutting like the animal I feel like as I pound into you. Eat, fuck, eat, fuck, just keep at your pussy until you can't fucking take it, moaning as much in desperation as pleasure, just letting go, unleashing my need on you.

My hunger doesn't stop. Can you fucking handle it? Do you want your pants ripped right fucking open so I can take you? Let's go.

 

[davelit]

We enjoy the weekend, don't we? When Friday evening hits and the next couple days are ours to enjoy however we like. Sure, there's things to do around the house, but we pick when we do them, and how.

I enjoy the weekends we don't have a lot going on, sometimes. No barbecues, no meetings, no social obligations that I will enjoy but sometimes wish we didn't have to do. Somehow, packed restaurants and a crush of noise aren't as appealing as they used to be.

And it's been a busy week. I've seen you, but really, we've both been busy or tired or stressed enough that our more carnal thoughts have gone unexplored. And now, I want to marinate in every one of them.

You know I like turning early morning cuddles into something more intense. Grinding and groping, you on your back while I relish in your body, pushing your legs open for more, wanting to turm those sleepy moans into more awake ones, make the bed squeak under us with my need.

That warm shower, your naked body too tempting to refuse, sliding in with you. Soaping you more than you need, hands slipping and sliding over you, my need too apparent to wait. Getting dressed, bent a little over the vanity, pulling at clothes you were starting to put on to split you, fill you again.

Or after breakfast, putting you on the table And yanking your legs open to get my own meal. Out to get groceries, see you bend over a little to get bags out of the trunk, clingy leggings too good on your hips to ignore, making sure we get the freezer stuff in before I bend you over and take you again.

You go to run on the treadmill, and I definitely can't resist that, sports bra and yoga shorts showing so much bare skin that needs my hands and my lips on it, convincing you to work out on the couch with me instead. Even reading a book, cozy sweater and glasses not even trying to tempt, and I lust over how your chest pushes out that sweater, wanting those parted lips parted more over my cock, your hands in your pants working yourself, turned on by how much I want you.

Let's make that weekend in more fun. What do you say?

 

[davelit]

All in all, I like working remotely. Save a commute, get more done, and not being hovered over all day, all good things. Sure, I stare at screens way longer than I used to, there are too many meetings (some of which could have been emails, Mary Jane), and I do occasionally miss the socializing, but the benefits far outweigh the drawbacks, for me.

The days we both work from home, I enjoy more. We're adults about it most of the time, because we enjoy a regular income and having a place to live that's our own. That's just how you have to be when you've been together a while, advancing in whatever corporate hamster wheel you found yourself in, spending less time on each other than making sure we still have things to enjoy together.

That said, I still enjoy the occasional fantasy. Seeing you all day just fuels my smoldering need for you. Working at home, you've mostly traded blouses, sweaters, skirts, slacks for legging, jeans, and... well, still sweaters, and v-necks, and other more casual fare. And I enjoy *all* of it.

And when my mind wanders, I indulge those fantasies. Waiting for a moment to get you up from your desk to bend you over it instead. The playful smack on the butt turning into a grab, then a kiss, then eager hands getting under that v-neck to feel you up, swallowing a surprised (and hopefully eager) moan as I paw at your body.

How far could I push it? When I stroll into your office, just out of view of the camera, stroke as I shamelessly ogle your body. Enjoying the swell of your chest, the v where snug fabric meets your hips, those parted lips just begging to be filled with my need. Barely waiting until the telltale beep of the end of a zoom call to grab your mouth, pull you onto my need, show you just how badly I need you.

Maybe I don't make it that far. Maybe I spurt all over your cleavage before you get to me, so pent up from a day of lusting over you, needing you so badly I ruin that snug shirt, soaked with cum before I let loose and tear it open, drag you to bed and really ravish you.

How else can we unwind after those constant meetings and calls? Do you like how I think, or do you have other ideas? You should tell me.