Hungry for her touch

[zi****]

I never meant to give myself away so easily. But the moment she pressed the glass of wine into my hand, I already felt undone. The room was warm, lit only by the soft glow of candles, shadows dancing across the walls as if they already knew my secrets.

I tried to act composed, but she knew. She always knew. The way my eyes lingered too long, the way my breath caught when her fingers brushed mine all my attempts at control melted.

“Sit,” she told me, and I obeyed without a word.

The wine shimmered, deep and red, catching the light like temptation itself. She held it delicately, but instead of lifting it to my lips, she traced the rim with her finger — slow, deliberate, knowing I was watching. My body leaned forward before I even realized it.

When she finally set the glass down, she moved closer. I lowered my gaze — I always do — not out of shame, but out of surrender. Her closeness was unbearable and exquisite, her presence filling every part of me with tension I could barely contain.

“I want you to feel this,” she whispered, "take of your shirt off" i obeyed, "open your mouth"
She stood upon my face my eyes directly at her wet pussy, she raised her leg and put her feet in my mouth, she split the red wine on her knees and i was waiting to taste the wine from her feet.

I could have begged then, could have asked for more, but I didn’t. My voice would have betrayed me. Instead, I simply waited, heart racing, skin alive with anticipation.

And when her touch finally came light, teasing, yet commanding I gave in completely. Every part of me whispered the same truth: I am hungry for her touch.