Hoe-siery

You were long gone. There was no trace of your scent on the bedsheets. No coffee mugs on the table. No socks thrown away in a rush. No hickies, no bruises... Time took everything.
I caught myself reimagining you there, asleep. Arch of your back. Subtle curvature of muscles. Dark hair with stubborn curls covering beautifully shaped face. Dreams were revealing the softest side of you and I felt touched every time I realised how vulnerable you really are.

But the truth was I missed the b**st as much as I missed the Gentleman. Remember that evening when we went out for a dinner and I whispered a lustful wish after the main course? You patiently waited for the right moment to give me what I asked for. I vividly remember my whole body becoming this one, pulsing point under your fingertips. Sound of ripping tights. Finally, feeling your fingers in me, sliding in and out in a powerful rhythm. Being filled and full of you was all I wanted.

'Don't bin those tights' you commanded. I went through millions of scenarios imagining your next step. What would the b**st growl into your ear?

Would you tell me to wear them again and again, secretly fingering my greedy hole in public?
Would you cum on them and force me to push them into my cunt and sniff as many times as you could?
Would you cover my head in them, positioning ripped hole where my mouth is, only to brutally throatfuck me like a doll?
Would you tie my hands and tell me filthy stories of how much you want to whore me around?

Those tights are waiting for you, dear b**st. And so am I.