'Stop looking at the clock,' I tell myself.

The day crawls, the minutes creep by so slowly. I long not to be here, willing the five o'clock rush for the door. The office is quiet, the weekend beckons. I look at my phone, re-reading your message. "Meeting cancelled. Will be home when you get here xx." I knew you will be asleep, You always seem to be sleeping. Well, when you aren't working, or playing...

Grabbing my coat, noticing rain on the window. The bus is full, cramped, steamed up. Rubbing a  sleeve in an arc across the glass, creating a window within the window, I watch the streets go by, the lights reflected in the pools of water gathering along the kerbs. The bell rings, bringing me out of my stupor. My stop, at last. Splashing through puddles, I head to your door.

The key clicks and turns, the door squeaking. I enter, feeling the warmth from the heating. Discarding my shoes, I walk to the stairs, not bothering to check the ground floor. Stockinged feet on the stairs, stepping over the creaking step. At the top landing, I turn, your room ahead.

My hand on the cool brass handle, twisting gently. The door ajar, I hear the sounds of you sleeping. The room dark, a streetlight bathes the room in a soft, yellow sodium haze. I strip, quickly, my clothes discarded by the chair, no motivation to fold them neatly as my gaze is upon you.

Naked. Your black hair corkscrews around your face, framing your elfin features. Lying on your side, your hip towards me. Arms crossed in front, covering your breasts, those soft, silken pillows. My eyes are drawn downward, the black hair trimmed, shaped. My thoughts gravitate to your centre, pulled towards you.

A candle on the table, vanilla essence fills the room. The light flickers, your tanned skin alive. I watch the rise and fall of your body, gauging your rhythm. I hate to wake you, but long for you. You will sleep at the drop of a hat. My mind decides, I step to the bed, softly sliding beside you, my left hand gently caresses your hip. I feel you shift, stir. I gaze at your face, your eyelids flicker, you breath deeply. Encouraged, I trace my fingers up your hip, to your side. Towards your stomach. I feel the skin tremble. Your lips part, a light smacking sound.

'Hey, baby,' I dare to whisper. Then again, just a shade louder. I hold my breath, not daring to exhale. Your eyelids flicker again, again the deep breath, then I watch as you rouse from sleep. For a second you don't know where you are. Then, our eyes meet. You smile, those cherry lips soft, open, white teeth beneath. I smile too, finally exhaling. You reach for my cheek, fingers brushing my lips. You ask about my day. Small talk, hands touching, eyes on each others lips. I shiver, your hand on my shoulder, pulling me near.

This kiss could go on for ever, I could die happy right now. I breathe in your warm, sleepy girl scent. I feel arousal, passion, longing. Hands move, bodies shift, skin touching. Your hair, so thick, so long, falls over our faces. My hand in your hair, gently pulling your head back, making you lie back on the bed. My body moves closer, our curves fitting together.

Kissing you deeply, hands on your throat, fingers stroking your skin, nails gently scratching you. My hand drops, over your chest, lower, cupping your breast, fingers around your nipple. Fingers on your ribcage, back under your breast. My lips move, kissing your chin, your neck, my body shifting downwards. Mouth and hands converge on your nipples, blowing, teasing, arousing. Your back arches, pushing towards my face.

I love your breasts, for a small girl they are big, but firm. I remember the first time I saw you, slipping that pale blue balcony bra from yourself, breasts exposed. The matching French knickers soon joining the bra upon the floor. Just there, next to this very bed, just a few passionate memories ago. You moan softly as my lips encase one nipple, gently sucking it into my mouth, my fingers kneading the firm flesh around it. Your hand in my hair, holding me close, guiding me.

I lick a trail to the other breast, playing with the nipple. I favour your left one. I have no idea why. Perhaps I hear your heart beating beneath. I can sense its throb quickening, or maybe just imagine it. My hand closes under your breast, holding it, feeding it to myself, my tongue flicking the nipple, hardening in response. You moan, louder. Looking up, your eyes closed again, lips parted and wet.

You shift beneath me, moving slightly to the side. One hand on your right breast, my mouth dips lower, kissing your ribcage, then lower to your belly button. Your hand replaces my lips on your breast, squeezing and pulling at the pert nipple. I run the tip of my tongue down your stomach, closing my lips over your belly button before tracing down to your trim thatch with light kisses.

I move down the bed, my knees level with yours, though I am kneeling up. Bending over, my nostrils catching your scent. My hands flat on your thighs, sliding them up, softly, slowly. Your legs part, your eagerness apparent. A trail of moistness on the top of your thighs, peeling apart as you shift. My hunger takes over. Hands sliding between your legs, stroking your inner thighs, moving upwards.

My thumbs caress each side of your mound, pressing firmly but gently up and down. You release a long sigh, your head turning to one side, the light from the street framing your face. I concentrate on the job at hand.

Fingers pressing at your skin, moving ever closer to your aroused outer lips. Your legs shift, parting slightly, giving me easier access to your centre. I lean forward, mouth close to your mound, blowing lightly against your skin. Much as I want to dive in, take you fully, I pace myself. I love to tease you.

My hand flat against your pussy, feeling the heat in my palm, I move in a slow, circular motion, your trimmed hair crushed beneath. I feel you push your pubis up to meet my touch, your bottom grinding against the cotton sheets. The fact you are losing yourself to me drives me on.

I run my thumbs gently against your outer lips, stroking up and down, up and down, up and down.  Looking up, I see your left hand has moved to your breast, softly kneading your flesh in time to my fingers.

My right thumb touches your clit, tracing delicate circles as it grows under my touch. My left hand moves lower, my middle digit pressing against your opening, gently exploring your inner lips before I push into you, softly.

You gasp, a hiss of hot air releasing from you, your fingers on your engorged nipple, adding to your pleasure. I push my finger deeper, my thumb still flicking against your clit, wetness coating my fingers, willing me to go deeper, harder. I pull my finger from you, eliciting a gentle moan from you, and raise it to my lips, tasting your nectar.  Now coated in my own lubricant I slip one, then two fingers back into you.

I adore watching you climax, to me there is nothing so powerful as being in complete control over you for those few moments.  I know just where to touch you, just the right amount of pressure, just the right amount of teasing before allowing you that sweet release.

My fingers inside you seek out your sweet spot as I replace my thumb on your clit with my tongue. Flicking your bean, in turn hard, then softly, lips sucking, teeth gently grazing against you, then back to my tongue now lapping, licking, flicking.

Your body shakes gently, always a good sign. I drag my fingers back and forth, the tips grind smoothly inside you. If there was sufficient light I would see your face and chest reddening, see the beads of perspiration covering your skin. Instead, I listen to your rapidly quickening breath, feel your body pulsating beneath me, giving me the encouragement to continue.

Removing my fingers, my hands against the top of your thighs, pressing you down. I move my head lower, mouth closing over your wet cunt, drinking in your scent as I begin to slowly devour you, my flat tongue lapping against your lips, the tip darting between them, my nose flat against your pubic bone. I press my tongue deeper into you as your right hand presses against my head, holding me in position. I feel your fingernails graze against my scalp. I am lost in you.

I eat you until my jaw aches, my tongue begins to feel detached. I concentrate my oral ministrations on your clit and push my fingers back inside you, now three, knuckle-deep, begin to bring you to climax.

I hear you repeat the single word "Please.." over and over and over. Your body shakes harder, in time with my tongue and fingers. I press harder, flick and lick harder, eyes closed, living for this one moment.

Your body stiffens as you come, your pubis pushed hard against my face and fingers, once, twice, three times. You gasp again, hard and deep.  I continue to tease and lick and finger, slowing, softening the pace. I feel the grasp of your hand on my head begin to weaken, fingers stroking my hair, then my face.

Taking one last, long, soft kiss against your pussy, I gently remove my fingers, trailling them against your skin as I raise myself back up. I place my hand between your breasts, feeling your heart pounding beneath. Your skin is damp to the touch.  I can see your hair stuck to your forehead, and you raise a hand to free it. Your eyes sparkle, almost glowing, so alive.

I wait for you to come down from your high, for your breathing to slow and steady, before extracting myself from between your legs and moving to lie down alongside you.  We kiss, softly, then embrace, the only sounds the soft tick of the clock, the click of the radiator, and  our breathing softly synching as the rain starts again, tapping its hypnotic rhythm against the window pane.