Sitting on the floor leaning your back against the couch, legs splayed, arms limp at your sides, you are still breathing heavy and I know you’re exhausted. I’ve spent the evening feeding off your energy, absorbing it through your skin, sucking it from your mouth, scratching it from your chest, fucking it out of you.
I know you think I’m through with you for tonight, and that only makes me want to see if you have anything left to give.
I leave you for a moment and return with a glass of wine for me and a tall glass of water for you. You must be dying of thirst. I set my wine down, and with a still stocking-clad foot, I nudge your hand out of the way and stand over you, digging my heels into your thighs. You lower your head and bury your face in my skirt, pushing and rubbing like a puppy who wants petted. I grab a handful of your hair and pull your head back so that you’re forced to look up into my face. Your lips are dry, but I make you watch me as I drink most of your water.
I pause and ask, “Would you like some?”
I jerk your head back further. As your mouth opens wide, I drip water into your mouth, straight down your throat. When you close your lips to swallow, the wasted water splashes on your lips and nose and trickles down your neck. You choke and cough a little and I release you.
I wipe your mouth with my skirt and return my fingers to your hair, pushing your head into my crotch. Still breathing heavy, you’re forced to breathe through the fabric and the heat of your breath feels delicious on my skin. I pull you closer, shoving your mouth and nose against my pussy, forcing you to work for every breath.
I know you can smell me, feel the heat coming from me, know that I’m wet and wanting, and I’m sure you know by now that I’m not done with you yet.