Feeling It

Gasping and eager for it I shift, rolling around on the bed and writhing beneath the covers until I shove them away and they pool at my feet. My hands run roughshod over my body, fingers digging in to the skin of me and feeling the heat beneath there begging to burn out of me.

Oh god I want it. I want to get fucked.

My eyes lock onto the sight of me in the mirror and god I am beautiful but it scares me all the same. There is something so out of control about the way I look right now and while I wouldn't say, considering the entirely new body, that I recognize my reflection in the mirror I would say that I've never seen this woman before.

I've never seen Emily look so needy, so ****. I don't know what to do with that.

Well that's not entirely true. I knew precisely what to do with the needs bubbling through my body but I didn't know how to handle it, how to address it. I didn't know how to feel about the fact that she very truly could not help herself and I didn't know how to resolve that image of her with the person I felt like I was inside.

Fear and doubt crept in from the edges of me and I pushed them away, shaking my head as my mouth fell open in a moan. A moan that got louder and oh so much louder until I felt certain that I was going to draw attention.

And that would help, but it would hinder as well.

Blushing even deeper now, a crimson at the thought that Lucas might be hearing me so wanton and out of control, I shift quickly on the bed. I turn myself around, pressing my face down onto the pillow below me and biting onto it as my hands slip down my body and find the places they need to be.

I'd gone to bed wearing a ratty old t-shirt and a pair of snug boy shorts and all my touching until this point had been over and under and through the thin fabric. But this time my touch was deliberate as I pushed my hands beneath it, taking in the feel of my body properly.

Taking my breast in hand and squeezing hard enough that I moaned into the pillow in my face. Sliding my fingers beneath the boy shorts I wore and over the mound of my sex which was burning with a desire and need and a begging urge for attention, which was dripping wet and eager for me to press inside.

On my knees, face in the pillow, I pressed closer and closer. I pressed against my skin and my body without actually starting to pleasure myself. Just touching the firmness of my flesh and feeling the thrust of my desires and the eagerness of my excitement as I drove myself closer and closer and oh so much closer to my limit.

And I chanced one single glance, one last glance, before I buried my face in my pillow and started to fuck myself with my own fingers. Tilting my head to the side and catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

My ass, clad in tight little boy shorts that clung to me. Round and taut and shaking as the fabric between my thighs was bulged out with my hand moving and cupping and pressing over my eager mound.

Smooth thighs quivering with my knees on the bed. Parted and begging to be held as someone tugged my panties down to my ankles and took me hard and fast.

Back arched, breasts raised just enough off the bed that they would shake and jiggle if you fucked me.

Face buried in a pillow to muffle my cries of pleasure. Or it would be at least, soon.

Right now it was flush with desire and my mouth was in a wide and open O. My eyes were flashing with delight and my cute little button nose was crinkled as a deliciously wicked smile crosses my features and I sparkled with mischevious glee.

And then I buried my face in my pillow as my fingers part the folds of my sex and pressed inside.

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