I lie in bed. I am cold, my fingers especially. I bury them under my arms, closer to my warmer core. But the furnace needs to be stoked. I imagine fluffers on a porn set. I once read that they don't actually exist, that it is so hard to become a male porn star that if you need a fluffer, well then, you just don't make it in the industry. I remember footage I have seen of oiled up, muscled 'actors' vaguely watching the squeaky scene before theirs' while slowly rubbing their own cocks. It does not turn me on. But I want something to.
I want to feel the full, clenching ecstasy of my orgasm before rolling over in my friction-warmed sheets and pressing my thighs together to send aftershocks through my clitoris. But I am sleepy. Maybe not tonight. Maybe I'll wait.
I turn my left cheek towards the pillow as my right hand slides down between my legs. I cup the mound of my pussy, just resting there, just feeling its soft warmth. My palm is tickled by the hairs and my still cold fingertips meet the silkiness of my lips. I breathe deeply, my opening chest lifting my arm and sliding my fingertip ever so slightly upwards. As I exhale I open my thighs a fraction and allow my returned fingertip to bury itself between my just parted lips. I am warm and wet. It is not surprising, I am always wet. The moisture has pooled around the entrance to my vagina. I imagine it oozing out incredibly slowly. I imagine it forming tiny droplets on the inner walls and dripping and gathering into larger, slicker beads running into my knickers during the day and pooling between my lips, now, as I lay on my back. I can see my brain sending messages like lightening bolts, warning my body of the impending assault from the hard, thick cock about to pound away inside me. About to coat itself in my juices and spoon the lubrication out of me so it constantly needs replacing.
I draw my knees up and then let them fall to the sides, opening my legs completely. The soles of my feet are touching. I feel like I am in an examining room about to be intruded by latex fingers and cold steel. I slide my left hand down and open my lips as wide as they go with two spread fingers. I can feel on my fingers where I am wet and sticky inside my lips and still soft and dry on the outside. I hold them like that for a while imagining the heat radiating from inside of me and filling the space between my body and the duvet. I fantasise that somebody is looking into the hot, red flesh and is about to lick my juices from me in one decisive swoop with a soft, flat tongue.
Then, with my pussy still splayed I take the first finger from my right hand and dip it into the hot pool. Slowly I pull it upwards, dragging a slick line with it like a snail. I teeter lightly along the underside of my clitoris where the tip meets the hood: it's too sensitive to touch with any force. Then, when my finger reaches the ridge of my clit I push down softly and bite my lip. Carefully I bring my middle finger to join the first. One softly resting each side of my clit, almost pinching it. In the warm, slick, lubrication that I have collected I push down and draw little circles, both my fingertips at once.
My throat relaxes, pushing out a sigh. I close my eyes and tilt my head back. I am still circling my clit as I allow the fingers from my left hand to shut and to slide themselves into my pussy. I coat them with my cream and rub it into my mound and my inner thighs. The juices come thicker and faster. I know that if I just push a little harder, and circle a little faster then I will come. Suddenly I want to be drenched. I want to be swimming in a river of my own come. I imagine men stood over me aiming their come between my legs. I imagine women knelt over me and dripping onto my cheeks and into my mouth. My mind becomes a swell of sticky fluid and I know that if I just rub a little harder...
I force my fingers away from my clit. I don't want to come yet. It feels too good and I don't want it to be over. Instead I push two fingers into my hole. I am steaming. I stroke them against the front wall, moving them up and down forcefully, the dull sensation of my knuckles against the entrance contrasting with the twang of my nails catching on the inner flesh. I need to be deeper. I shift myself onto all fours. I lean down and rest my head against my left forearm while I reach back again with my right hand. My arse points upwards, my legs are open. I feel I am ready to be taken. I am ready for that thick cock to jam into me. I am ready to be shunted forward by the force of a male thrust. For my nipples to brush back and forth across the sheet. For my lips to be slapped repeatedly by swollen balls. For my cervix to be pounded so hard that I cry out each time it is hit.
I kneel up. The air is cool against my hot skin. I need to come now. I spoon up my juices in my fingers and rub them hard into my clit. With my left hand I pinch my nipples tightly. I circle my clit like I am trying to push it through my pelvis back into my body. My fingers slide across the tip and make me moan and grunt. I slip my left hand down and jab my fingers in and out of my pussy, which responds by spilling drops of watery fluid each time I pull my fingers out. The fluid runs down my thighs. I trace it across my stomach and back up to my nipples. I know that I am about to come. I want my legs to be wide. I want my pussy to be open. I want my clit to be exposed, and touched, and flat, and hard. A noise is squeezed through my clenched jaw. Every muscle in my body becomes tense. My whole pussy becomes one: hot and powerful and pulsating. My orgasm overtakes me, envelopes me, rushes through me. With each contraction I am burning. I cannot see, hear, breathe or make a sound. My womb tightens and my thighs are running with liquid. I lurch forward as if I am sucked into myself and the pleasure pulsates through me. Then, with the epitome of climax I release a guttural scream. More fluid flows down my legs and I slump forward, done and spent.