as i sit staring at the trees flit by, i leave my head, no longer living in my sunken sockets, descending deep down into the depths of my womb, stretching into my twitching ****.
every rumbly tumble of the ten ton vehicle vrooming down the turnpike outlines the echos of his hands.
the echos of them in the negative space between my thighs that exists only in my mind as they intimately embrace each other against the bus seat. the echos of them still filling me making me feel fantastically full and yet frighteningly empty.
i feel firmly on the fence between ****** and arousal, every pothole filling my holes and lurching me towards ******, every soft vibrational hum of asphalt against my asscheeks, pulling me back to my pleasurable perch.
i have reduced myself to merely a warm, wiggly wash of titillation, teetering in between temptation and utter satisfaction.
i close my lids slightly and breathe in the absence of his presence, as if ive been staring at a dazzling light too long left only with its dark twin in its vacancy.
the separation stretches speeding down highways, so i must wait, wet and wistful, to be bathed and blinded by the brightness once again.