Enough of this, ok?

Yes, I love the sound of you. Your voice turns liquid in my ears and settles in dark, forbidden recesses that beg to be filled. That only you can fill.

I can hear your fingers play along your hard shaft. First slow, then faster, then dripping.

I can hear your voice catch, you back arch, your face flush, your muscles seize and clench all through your voice.

I ride your wave from a thousand miles away, and I crest along with you.

But without your touch, your scent. . . . without the taste of you on my tongue . . . I am going insane.

So enough. It isn’t that far or that hard. Come fuck me. Now.