He Works on Me

Laying in bed most of the night reading.
At this very moment I’m unable to pinpoint just why I can’t sleep. Reading seems to always put my mind at ease and sleep comes oh so easily from there. After hours of tossing sheets and thumbing through pages, I am stopped by the sound of the garage doors whining as they do so loudly.

Eager to see him ,I stretched myself across the bed and pretended to be asleep.  With my eyes closed and my heart beating faster at every moments passing, the door opens. The scent of his outdoor musk stung my nostrils,but the kiss to my shoulder and the hands down my back excused his sweaty palm that gently squeezed my ass.

I glanced to see his smile when he saw that his boxer briefs and beater were neatly placed on the shelf as if I gesturing that he was stinky. As he stood naked in the shower my eyes were glued to the scene in front of me.
Impatient, I walked to the shower door and decided to let him work on me.

From the tips of my toes, to my back against the wall…He works on me.

My hands on the glass and pulled tight around my waist…He works on me.

Arms around his neck on the sink and ooh the way he kissed her on to the bed…He works on me.

From the pull of my hair…and when he arched my back…He works on me.

From his grunt to my moan…
From pillow talk to a final yawn…
He worked on me.

Published by ZippyWrites

I am a writer by profession. I love the obvious about life and I find that ignoring facts make living so much harder to do. I plan to bring real life to my blog no matter what...it's all actual events pulled from my life or those around me.

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