Liquid Days

It's one of those days that you keep running to the washroom.


Just to touch your wetness, that's still slick from last night's love-making. That won't stop making you squirm in your seat and get alone with yourself so you can think some more of the night that was.


And touch yourself again.


It makes you want to come all over again today, warm and liquid one more time, from thinking of his tongue on your clit, the delightful lapping and licking that drove spasms of ecstasy up your spine and abdomen. From thinking of how, involuntarily, you drove him to dive his head into your cunt, eat you up entirely until you are so wet, it feels like you have never been dry before.


You talk, smile, chat, eat and work while he still pulls on your mind and body, your flesh kneaded, squeezed and pulped under his able fingers, your moans turning into gasps, from human sounds to animal-like growls.
He pumps into you, you ride on his cock and with each contraction, he drives deeper and deeper into you until your world zeroes down on him and he is all you are aware of and the sensation of having him fill you up, leaving no vacuum unclaimed.


You collapse on him, your head digging into the hollow between his ear and neck and you manage to breathe. Just to remember you are still alive. He finds that ticklish and laughs. Your liquids churn into his and you moan again. The feeling of having him spent inside of you is so intoxicating, you wish you could hold him in, inside of you all day long.


And you do. You do hold him in. For until you can find that oasis again, that reservoir will help you survive.