Waiting_(3)

It was snowing. Snow wasn’t something that happened in the part of Ireland she was from, at least not much of it. She was standing at her bedroom window, the light out behind her so she could watch the fat flakes of snow falling outside the window, the glass cold against her bare chest making her nipples harder.

Michael was gone, somewhere with his pack, it was to be expected really but she was lonely, and horny and wanted him home. She back away from the window, letting the curtain fall back into place and she lay down on top of the bed.

The comforter was new, one of those micro-fibers that felt like velvet against her bare skin, she couldn’t help but wiggle against it. That of course was not helping with the fact that she was positively aching to be fucked. She stretched make a small, pathetic; almost whimper in the back of her throat.

She moved her hands from her sides running them up her body from her narrow hips to her small breasts, covering each one with a hand, pushing them toward each other with a small sigh as she closed her eyes. She squeezed slowly feeling her small nipples harden in her own hands, and stroked her fingers across the small buds of sensitive flesh, pinching and pulling them until they stood rock hard.

Her lips parted as she sighed softly continuing to play with own breasts pushing and pulling at them, at the same time she pulled her legs up bending them at the knees and letting them fall open, the slightly cooler air of the room touching her hot, moist folds causing her to make that almost pained whimper- moan once again.

She wanted Michael home now, but he likely would be home until after dark.