Futile longing

She came back feeling agitated and worked up. When she saw him, she went over to see if his usual calm demeanor would help soothe her nerves.

He saw her turmoil immediately when he locked eyes with her. Slowly, he approached her and opened his arms. Thankful for the gesture, she sank into him for a hug.

He held her for a while, squeezing her tight, until she felt her body relax.

After a while, he peeled her off him, and held her at arms’ length. Gazing into her eyes, he spoke:

“All ok?”

She looked back at him, searching his eyes for something. He let go of her arms after a while, and returned her look.

“Touch me,” she said.

The subsequent silence between them felt charged, as if an electric current connected them. Searching his face, she waited for him to say something in return.

Or, better yet, do something. To her. With his hands.

She watched him struggle, scanning his body for telltale signs of his arousal. Was he aroused, by her? Right now?

But he didn’t give in to her plea. He maintained his arms’ length distance and watched her face.

“Now is not the time for sex,” he stated after a while, and then he turned to walk away, leaving her standing there, alone.

She anticipated this, his rejection, knowing he would stand by his principles, but it still hurt. The hug had helped her calm down from the day’s events, but she wanted more. She wanted the warmth of his touch to last, to progress. She wanted to feel something. She even thought she could feel him stir through his jeans.

She knows she has an effect on him, a sexual effect. How come he’s still not ready for the next step?

Later, she changed into an oversized t-shirt and laid down on her bed. She was bare underneath; she never wears panties for sleeping.

Turning sideways, knees bent slightly with one leg throw over a pillow, she attempted to read a little to distract her mind from the day’s events.

As she scrolled her phone, she could feel her butt cheeks getting a little chilled. Her t-shirt must have rode up her back, exposing her rear end.

Reaching behind her to try and pull her t-shirt down she realized it was stuck under her. She decided to leave it as is, not wanting to lift her tired body to readjust herself. But, her hand accidentally touched her ass cheek, which made her skin tingle. Touching herself felt good to her, so she let her fingers trace the curves of her exposed body parts. Feeling the smoothness of her freshly bathed skin, she continued to caress herself all over her smooth curves.

Lying sideways like this allowed her access to the dents and valleys of her behind, in ways she imagined he would touch her if he was lying beside her now. She closed her eyes and fantasized how he would explore her with the tips of his fingers, the palm of his hand, just like she was doing to herself right now. Would he leave her on her side, or flip her onto her stomach? Men like doing things from behind…

Eventually, she returned her hand to the dell between her cheeks, and continued to trace it down toward the slit between her thighs.

Seems there was a bit of moisture there.

Still lying on her side, she put her phone down so she could concentrate on how her hand felt on the back part of her body. She let her fingers explore her cheeks some more. She liked how she was soft, and round, with all sorts of indentations and folds closer toward her junction.

Carefully fondling herself, she reached further down to let her finger dip into the dew oozing from her pussy.

Feeling aroused, she started to play a little. But that position was a bit awkward, given she was lying sideways with her legs together, and her arm behind her back.

She flipped herself onto her back and spread her legs slightly. Then, her hands began to roam along her body, up underneath her t-shirt toward her breasts. They felt full in her hands, and soft, except for the hard, protruding nipples. She sighed and slid her hands back down toward her smooth, freshly shaved mound.

Thinking back to her hug with her friend, she started fantasizing again.

Those are his hands, she told herself.

She closed her eyes and longed for his touch.

2 thoughts on “Futile longing

  1. “Men like doing things from behind…”

    It’s true. I think maybe it’s the feeling of power and control? Or maybe the view. Probably a little bit of both. 🙂

    I like Cassandra’s gentle exploration of her body, imagining it was his touch instead.

    Liked by 1 person

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