You run your mind gently across my lips and let it slip down the soft slide of my left breast. Your thoughts nibble at my provoking nipples, one tiny red pillow adorned with the barest remnant of a scab. Memories poke up their tousled heads. You chase them away, and force your errant brain deep into the yeast dough mound of my pale belly. Your ruminations tickle my clit before slipping into my pussy.
Miles away, I groan, and wish I had permission to touch.