I wanted you today. This morning.
Thighs on fire, arms aching. A long workout, in an empty, cold gym, sweat pouring down my body from the abuse I have given it.
I hit the even colder locker room, music blaring in my ears while I strip, unabashedly. I am alone. When I pull the ear buds from my ears, the silence is deafening. I grab my towel and my shampoo and my face wash and clamor into the tiny shower stall. The tile is cold and so is the air. The first blast of water is like ice and it stings my skin. I am covered in bruises and those hurt worse. I quickly turn the faucet to HOT and let it beat against my skin until I am red and puffy and slick and warm. Steam climbs the high ceilings and the water pressure is ferocious.
And I want you.
I tilt my head high and close my eyes, hands stroking down the long column of my neck, over my shoulders and breasts, palms skating past my tummy and easily nestling in between my legs.
I lean back against the now warm tile, imagining it is your hand pumping against me, long fingers stroking inside of me, coaxing me to a quick, dirty orgasm.
The stream of water is roaring in my ears and I am brave enough to let out a long, low moan. Already, I can feel my inside muscles clenching around my fingers. I want more.
A thousand different images flood my mind, phantom feelings of your fingers against my shoulders and in my hair and cupping my breasts and my ass and my hips. I can feel your mouth on me as I imagine being pinned to the wall, your pelvis bruising mine as you thrust inside of me. My heart is beating fast. My skin tingles. My back bows.
I whisper your name in an empty locker room, beneath a rush of scalding water.