This piece of erotica is the kind that comes direct from real life. I want someone, I want them bad (the feeling is verymuch mutual) but we can’t get together and do anything about it for a while yet. And when I was telling my Bestie about it, I posed this very question and it sparked this writing. 


Can you die from excessive horniness?

I’m asking for a friend.

My cunt.

I mean it’s not just her, the rest of my body is definitely involved, too.

My lips keep feeling that kiss, the deep, hard, powerful one that made me melt,

My arms still embrace that hug, that hug that expressed a need to not let go.

My hair remembers fingers entangled pulling back my head firmly, demanding submission.

And then there’s my brain, the conductor of my downfall

(going down? Fuck yes, please)

that replays the past, creates the future and dwells on the promises.

The whole of my body hums with this need, this desire, this all-consuming lust.

I can’t control it, tame it, every touch of my own fingers only drives the desire to feel those hands, hear that voice and submit.

Enact the promising words that were said,

The loving threats that were made.

To be commanded, to be used, to be devoured.

Anticipation tingles through every nerve.

Desire sits behind each thought.

Want lays heavy twixt tummy and clit.

I ache.

For you.