It was such a sunny day today. Even breezes on busy streets carried a hint of new leaves. Spring really has arrived. Not the humid spring, but the bright, glorious and hopeful spring — the perfect spring that makes me happy.
I imagined him taking me to the park or the lake. On the way, in his car, he’d finger me, I’d be wanking his cock lightly, keeping him hard and wanting more; I’d open my shirt a button too low, with my boobs almost out in the open, but not quite. He’d see them, and be groping them while he drove along the road. I’d open my legs wide, he’d slide a finger in me, feeling how wet I already was: my pussy open and waiting for him.
We’d be walking along the grassy paths, the smell of freshness enveloping us, our minds filled with sex, anticipating fulfillment. We’d find a tree, sit underneath it, kissing long and deep; my tongue would linger in his mouth, my lips wet and locked on his. I’d feel his arms cradling me, making me feel safe and loved. Even the smallest touch from him ignites me; I feel protected, loved and intensely lusted over all at the same time. I don’t fear my obsession over him, because for every wild thought I have for and about him, he returns it. I revel in being crazy about him.
We’d fuck right there in the bushes, our clothes smelling of grass, sweat and our juices; sex in the air and in our pores. We’d lie drunk with satiated passion in each other’s arms, feeling content and peaceful.
In the car, as we left, I’d tease him a little, almost half-heartedly; but by the time we arrived home, the tease would have become earnest, and we’d be tearing our clothes off again, melting together in a sea of desire. He’d make me scream in ecstasy; my body yields to him effortlessly. I’d drive him wild until he erupted all over me, or inside me, as he’d wish at the moment.
Tomorrow, depending on the weather, we’d go crazy again in another scenario.