Delight

I play sick for one reason only. I want my mother gone so I can stay home and wait. The moment she leaves, I am out of bed and dressing, tight clothes hugging my big tits, the fabric stretching over my curves as I smooth everything into place. I call my boyfriend, tell him I am waiting, and then I sit on the edge of the bed with nothing left to do but touch myself. Blonde hair falls across my face while my hand slips between my thighs. I press two fingers over the thin cotton and feel the heat already soaking through. Slow circles, then faster. My breath catches, my nipples tighten against the top, and the soft moan that leaves my mouth sounds too loud in the empty house. I slide the panties down my legs, spread wider, and let my fingers part slick folds that are already dripping. Every stroke makes my hips twitch. I watch the door, knowing he will walk through it any minute, but I keep rubbing, teasing, pushing two fingers inside and pulling them out shiny. My free hand cups one heavy breast, squeezing until the flesh spills over my fingers. Pleasure builds in tight, wet pulses, and I do not stop. I want to be dripping and aching when he finally arrives.