I dreamt about you. I had you sprawled back on the bed and my hands on you, inside you… My mouth played across your chest and down your flanks while I probed you. We had already begun. You were already wet and wanting, arching and sighing under my caress. But you were abstracting - trying to understand what I was doing. You asked me:
Why do you <do that with your fingers> - <and here you had a description for what I do when I cross and uncross my fingers inside of you> and at first I didn’t understand, so by way of a response I put more of my hand in you and you lost your train of thought. But then I realised what you were asking and I withdrew until just my index and middle finger were inside, and then when they are all the way back in I crossed and uncrossed them.
This? I perform the action again and you buck a little - I place my pursed lips on you and suck gently while I think. Thinking with my fingers. Thinking with my tongue. I roll my tongue on your clitoris between sucks. A bunch of reasons. With my fingers crossed I hook them slightly and pull back - increasing the friction and pressure on the inside front wall, where you are slightly <ribbed? There is a texture there, it comes and goes - right now it is definitely coming AND going). I reflect on my hooked fingers - supporting each other, and I cross and uncross them the opposite way - it changes the angle, the depth of penetration, the pressure inside you. I do it so I can touch you here *uncross* and here *cross* and here, I say… I think but I don’t say that I read it - in a how-to somewhere - I don’t remember - I also think but don’t say that it helps me to support my fingers in turn - to apply more pressure and reduce the fatigue in my hands. But that’s not the sexiest reason - my old-man-wrist-hurt disease.
I slide my face back up to your breasts and - between turns holding each nipple hard between my tongue and the ridge of my palate behind my teeth I’m trying to explain this - as the reason why to your original question although I am not entirely sure you care to know anymore. I am grinding up against the side of you while I do this - pinioning one of your legs while the other splays open. I push my hardness against your hip for my own gratification and the ersatz thrusting in the dream becomes real - and I am on my side and really (really) hard - but I am thrusting against empty space in the dimly lit empty room. My mouth is open but it isn’t full of you.
And I am also disappointed that it was *only* a dream. But then I remember that I am on my way home. And that it has been real before, and will be again. x