Erotic enjoyment, as a woman imagines her future lover.
She reads the words again, 'Good girl,' and the pleasurable feeling coursed through her like nectar. There is sweet sense of longing and curiosity, for when was the last time a man had called her such? She literally had no memory of it ever happening, but it made her want to be good, no matter that good meant dipping more than a toe in an ocean of naughty needs fulfilled.
Were you considered plundered if you went willingly? It would seem to take some of the snap out of biting a rose dipped in honey, yet petals be damned, a 'good girl' gave up every drop of honey to the man with the right words.
Would he look in her eyes, causing her to feel at once beloved and hungered for, eager as she for every nerve to twitch and moan to escape?
She touched her breasts in the darkness, soft and aching, nipples sore from being played with earlier in the day.
How would he touch them?
Would he suck them deeply, or linger only the time required for a taste?
Bending over as she sat on the edge of her bed, her hands stroked gently around her ankles, like an invisible cuff, then trailed to her toes on the exterior and back up the interior side edge, following with light streaks of fingertips up and down her lower legs, trembling as the sensitive place behind her knees was tickled.
Breathing in and out, pleasure mounting, her hands continued to her thighs, making the teasing trails here, too, and spreading her legs as her fingertips reached the inner area...
"Ohh..." involuntarily she moaned, imagining her new lover's rougher, stronger hands in place of her own, and leaned back on the bed, moving up a bit, with one leg straddling each side at the corner.
She suddenly pulled back the ultra soft folds of her labia, feeling the wetness of her need on the part she held, and the cooler air of the room tingled on her hot inner lips. Her right hand slipped in and met her erect clit, so washed in her own juices she couldn't grip it when she tried, nearly crying from the intensity of that slippery pinch.
How, then, would he bring himself to her most private place?
She shook with the thoughts of him, and the promise of things to be.
Both hands at her mouth now, she sniffed the delicate fluid on the left, and smiled before sucking it from each appendage, then sucked the wetter right hand, spending time with each finger, rubbing her nipples with the left hand as she did, and rocking her hips in small circle thrusts.
Then, with both hands on her breasts, she turned to the left, sliding the left leg against the other, whimpering as the fleshy wet textures of her crotch rubbed together, squeezing and tantalizing her swollen clit.
Her hip thrust increased as she kept moving the left leg back and forth, and gently rubbing the already tender nipples. After a few minutes, she rolled to the left, and slid her fingers of the right hand between the now extremely wet, engorged skin folds of her labia. She danced her fingers lightly on her clit, climaxing in seconds, then repeated it twice more, crying out louder with each orgasm, and crying and raggedly breathing at the fourth, finally stopping her movements except for the near sobs that shook her.
She smiled in her tears, knowing soon she would share herself with him, and surely a sweet kiss after the strongest of experiences, his eyes upon her, and that cherished affirmation, 'Good girl'...