a drink

I need to write here more…

I’ve been trudging through work waiting to find out if I have gotten the promotion and property I want, but I put on a happy face and pretend that all is right in the world.  The not knowing is eating at my stomach, I can only hope that I’ll hear within the next week or so.  Its been too long already if you ask me.  I could bitch and moan about work, but it accomplishes nothing other than giving myself a headache.  I’m not a rehasher when it comes to my job –

And I have been hearing from him again, who knows what is going on and while his effort is better and he is saying the right things, I am not sure I believe them.  We love our words, both him and I and I know how they can be wielded.  Instead I sit here, achy and horny.  He sends me these pictures and I can’t help it, I’m immediately turned on because I remember him, it, us.  The way our bodies slid together.  The way his face looked each time culmination came.  His hands, big and rough and the way he cupped my breasts being them to his lips like they were long drinks of cool water on the hottest day.  He knew how to bring pleasure with the flick of his tongue or the slide of a finger.

Perhaps it doesn’t help that I am sex starved right now, that a gentle breeze could make my nipples harden and ache.  That the self pleasure has begun to take its toll.  I want the smell of a man, the difference in male and female.  Press me to the bed and take me, I want that.  And him, damn if I don’t want him.