I am taller than you,
You stand on the balls of your feet,
To straighten my tie,
Your teeth biting your bottom lip – in concentration.

I hold my breath,
Trying not to moan,
My cunt clenching,
As your fingers delicately smooth the silk.

I sway forward,
Overcome by the rising heat,
You are oblivious – pulling the fabric so it dimples.
My lips fall open — swollen,
Wishing I had something to fill my mouth with,
Besides spit and air,
Breathe out in a puff of “touch me here….now”.

My hands hold your hips,
Palms flat on each hipbone,
Holding your cunt in place,
I can see the stiff blond hairs of your mustache,
That you dye, and I want to rub my face against you,
Roughly, like a dog rolling in mud after a storm.