what you don’t know about me


You know that I dream of sliding your cock between my lips. Giving pleasure to my lover is something that transcends arousal, for me – it’s everything. There is nothing more erotic, more satisfying, more unbelievable than giving untold pleasure to your partner and watch the pleasure ride them until everything breaks loose and they jump and shudder and moan.
You know that I like to be noisy – again, I’ve always found it to be a powerful aphrodisiac both for my lovers and for me, as well. Being noisy lets your partner know how well you’re enjoying their hands, their tongue, their cock…. or any other body part, for that matter. And to me, sound is an important element in the act of lovemaking – sex is never better than when it involves all the senses fully. The taste of sweat on your lover’s shoulder, the musky smell in the crease where hip meets thigh, the feel of hard muscle, soft skin and crisp hair, the look in your partner’s eyes as they feel pleasure, and the moans and gasps of sex all combine into a delicious cornucopia that is veritable feast for the senses.

You know I like to tease, at least temporarily. You know I find it arousing to hold back and delay the gratification… which only serves to make it more powerful when the time finally comes to fulfill the wish that has been promised but not delivered.
What don’t you know about me?
There are some obvious things, of course.
You don’t know just how deliciously sexy I find you – how I grow weak and wet when you look at me, how I tremble when you look at me for too long, how often I daydream when we’re together about sliding down your body, learning it with my mouth.
You don’t know how my face looks when I’m being touched, how my eyes grow smoky and lidded, how the little crease between my eyes deepens as I bite my lip against the onslaught of pleasure.
You don’t know what my voice sounds like as my pleasure builds, as my body begins to tighten and I cry out with desire and wanting and…
But what you don’t know, most of all, is my secret fantasy.
For all that I love to give pleasure, for all that I love to watch a man shudder and jump between my palms, my lips, my biggest fantasy lies not there.
It doesn’t involve whips and chains, or public places, or other people, or cameras and mirrors. In this most secret and important of fantasies, there need be no three-inch heels, rubber toys, devices that vibrate or penetrate or both. No famous people are involved, and very few props would be needed.
My most intimate fantasy is this:
To be touched. Touched in soft and unhurried ways. Touched for the purpose of drawing out the pleasure rather than hurrying it up.
I’d like to be laid out, tied up even, wholly at the mercy of someone (you) who would take their time, build the suspense, draw out the pleasure until I feel like I’m on a rack and someone is slowly, sweetly, tightening the screws.
I’d like to be kissed as though that kiss is the most erotic thing in the world, for either of us. I’d like to be touched in places not so obvious – the sensitive area behind my ear, the back of my neck, the valley between my breasts, the hollow on the inside of my elbow.
I’d like to feel your tongue in places not so obvious – the crease between neck and shoulder, the inside of my knee, the length of my spine.
I close my eyes and imagine your fingers circling my nipples, featherlight. You don’t know that my nipples are incredibly sensitive, but they are. I’ve even had an orgasm just from having my nipples touched and sucked. But that was a long time ago…
The tips of your fingers just barely circle my nipples, and they grow tighter and tighter beneath your touch. I’m going insane at your teasing – whimpers coming from my throat, gasps, while my body starts to shiver from arousal.
I imagine feeling your palms running over my skin – my shoulders, my arms, my chest, my waist, my legs… There are so many places that have gone untouched for years. I imagine your hands finding every hollow, every crevice, every satiny smooth curve.
In my mind’s eye, I can see your face, and this is by far the most powerfully erotic component of my fantasy. I can see the satisfied little smirk on your face as I watch your fingers hovering over my nipples, not quite touching. My body is moving restlessly and I’m wholly focused on the movement of your fingers over my body.
I watch your eyes darken as I lift my hips towards you, pleading for your touch.
I feel your eyes bore into me as you lower your head to my breast, taking me into your mouth, watching me as I close my eyes and moan at the sensations glittering through my veins.
You suckle so sweetly just at the very tip of my breast, making my breath come faster, the pulse between my thighs throb harder.
You slide your tongue along my inner thigh. I gasp at the feeling. There is nothing in my world at that moment – no thoughts, no sounds, no scents – nothing in the world but the sensation of your tongue sliding along my inner thigh, so close to where I want you that the imagery stuns me, makes me weak.
You’re watching me, fascinated by the play of emotions over my face. Suspense, desire, and a hint of curiousity too.
You slide a hand up my thigh, slowly, and I watch your fingers as they travel higher, higher.
You slip that finger softly, so lightly, between my lips, already wet with desire. My spine bows a little and my muscles start to clench. Your first touch inside me makes me shiver.
You tease and soothe, advance and retreat, over and over and over until my breath is jerking and my muscles are tight and I’m begging you, literally begging you, to end my torment. I feel like a marionette all tangled in knots, all tight strings and helpless tension.
Just as I feel I’m about to scream out in arousal and frustration, you untie my limbs and climb above me and slide your cock in deep, riding high on my clit, grinding your pelvis against mine. I stiffen and shudder and moan with the force of my orgasm, and before I’ve even had the opportunity to draw breath I can feel you sliding inside me, giving me no quarter, tiny revolutions of your cock against me followed by deep, hard thrusts that seem to fill my entire body.
I can’t help myself, I’m moaning helplessly, buffeted by sensation as I wrap my legs around your waist, pulling you down into me harder and harder with each thrust.

* * *

My pulse quickens, my breath shortens, even my nipples lift and ache when I think about what you don’t know about me – my secret, most cherished fantasy.
Being wanted. Being pursued.
After a seeming lifetime of having to chase, having to beg and being rejected, this alone could drive me wilder than any position, and place, any other scenario. And at the same time, it could serve to heal the wounds that the past several years have left on something essential and womanly inside of me.
For now, at least, the secret is mine to keep.

About the author

Vikki McKay
By Vikki McKay

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