One hundred words of flash, inspired by scent. –M
Hot water eroding the morning fuzz from my mind.
Lathering my hair, thinking of your fingers there, pulling my face between your open legs. Soaping my chest, remembering you sitting on it, hips bucking your flooding cunt into my greedy mouth.
Scrubbing lower, following the path you took, painting me with your cum as you slid down my stomach, grinning as you rose and sank down on my cock, whispering “good morning” with catching breath…
Toweling off, almost awake, I smell you, your sex, clinging the hairs of my chest.
I’ll never wash you away.
Nor want to.