Rhea's Cravings

I dreamt of you last night.



Maybe because I was up until midnight, mindlessly staring at the screen of my TV, daydreaming about you, hours after I've seen you in it. You were up for less than a minute, and I couldn't forget you and your skin. The thought of you haunted me hours after. I began to plan on how to see you the next day. Maybe I can re-arrange my schedule so that we may have some time alone tomorrow. A quick one over lunch, if you will allow it. Oh, of course you will allow it. There's nothing more you love than spreading yourself in front of me. Then, there was I, almost salivating at the look of you, ready to pounce anytime, but afraid that if I do so in a hurry, everything will end quickly. And that won't do at all. It just won't do.



Why am I torturing myself, pacing back and forth in my room, contemplating on whether to see you or not? It is torture to deprive myself of you. Tragic really, how I couldn't control myself when it comes to you. Total lack of control, that's what I have when I think of you. All rational thoughts flew, waving goodbye, seeming to taunt me that the prim and proper me, suddenly became a shameless, greedy person for wanting you all the time. Today, the need is even more pronounced. I couldn't stop thinking about you, about having you, even if I have to sneak from the office before lunch so I can enjoy you and your body at leisure.



Ah, I need to go the office. Damn. I hope I can get some things done today. You are a real distraction. A distraction I don't need when all my deadlines are looking right at me.



Gah! I'm sitting in front of my PC and all I can think of are your thighs. Now how decadent was that? I want to nibble my way, working up to the inside, and down again, not missing an inch of that succulent thigh of yours. Ah, this won't do. My cubicle is right in everyone's path from the elevator. I can't allow them to see me like this, trembling with want and need, at just the thought of your...thighs. I need to concentrate on some other body parts. How about your leg? Or your ---breasts? Grrr.



It's done. I'm a goner. My boss is looking at me like I've sprouted horns suddenly, because I keep squeezing my eyes shut and trying to dislodge the image of me, bending over, smelling and relishing the scent of your breast. Creamy white, and quite voluptuous really, your breasts are made for nibbling, and yes, if I'm truthful, biting. I need to take those beautiful things into my mouth. I can't wait any longer. I need to go. As in, now.



Just a little more, a little further and I can be with you. I can finally touch you, feel you and taste you. The taste of you burns in my mind. I'll go mad if I can't be with you soon. I need to time this perfectly. No hurry when I get there. I will savor the time we have together. Take some extra time tasting the juice out of your inner thighs. And a little more time with those breasts of yours. And yes, I promise to keep you in my mouth for as long as I can. Oh, I know you would like that. So don't tease me. Don't tease me by making me wait. Please don't. I know other people, your friends maybe, also wants to be with you, but not as much as me.



At last, I'm here, and I can already see you waiting for me. Only you can satisfy this seemingly constant, nagging, craving that I have. I'm shameless, as I look at you now, as predicted, spread out before me, teasing me, encouraging me to make the first bold move. I didn't disappoint you, though for a moment, I hesitated, because I couldn't seem to make up my mind where to put my hand first.



Hmmm. You are certainly finger linkin' good. I think I need more gravy. I still have your breasts to eat next. I think I have some more time for the hot and spicy you. Yum, yum.



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*A variation of, and inspired by Rhea's essay about our favorite chicken...