What happens when your thoughts stray to me? In the day, when you should be working but find yourself with nothing to do? At night, when sleep is cast off in favor of memories of my scent, my flesh, my desire mingled with yours?
I want to know – how hard is it not to touch yourself in those moments when memories of me and what I do to you are circling your mind? Do you ever give in and touch yourself?
When you’re driving, alone with just your thoughts, are you ever tempted to find that sensitive spot and slowly circle your thumb around it, lazily, with just a little bit of fear that someone is going to know what you are doing?
Do you imagine, in that moment, or caught off guard while making dinner, or purposefully after scrolling through your Tumblr feed and seeing the images of things to come that I’ve left for you, do you imagine the words you want to hear me whisper in your ear?
“Kneel” or “Don’t move” or “You’re going to stay there until I say you are done”? or “I’m going to fuck you until you forget your name, and that’s just the beginning”?
Do you pause what you are doing as you savor the feeling of your pants constricting your swelling cock?
Do you go one step further and imagine all the ways in which you could be used, debased down to nothing but the most primitive systems running because all higher functioning is really not needed for what you’re going to be doing?
In those moments, do you touch yourself? Does your hand circle your shaft, squeezing, stroking, letting go of the tension and lust built up since the last time? Do you shiver, just a little, slightly drunk from the combination of physical pleasure and memories of how I know just what to do to make you a puddle of hedonistic desire?
Do you imagine, in those moments, that I am watching? That I am directing?