Visuals don’t often appeal to me – I don’t “do” disembodied carnal bits without emotional context – but this one is…
The cropped-shot gif contains the barest of movement, but it is enough.
A masculine hand, strong fingers gently probing against the opening between her labia, insisting on entrance. A woman’s hand, press-swirling in tandem with her lover’s, stroking herself to pleasure in just the way she needs.
I watch the barely-there motions again, and it strikes me: That could be us.
It reminds me of US.
Of the way his fingers, thick and strong, roughly gentle, circle my entrance to pull my pooling wet onto his fingertips before thrusting deep, insistently twisting against my tight walled resistance. One finger… two… he scissors and spirals, corkscrews and curls, until my thighs butterfly wide, affording him better access. I tilt my hips forward and down, greedy for more, wanton and wanting all he can give me.
Oh yes. This visual reminds me of us.
Of the way his fingers advance and retreat, rubbing in a “come here” gesture against my g-spot while I mimic the motion against the underside of my clit, pressing the pad of my middle finger in a swirling motion against my pubic bone on each stroke.
I look once more at the image that has so unexpectedly caught my attention, taking in additional details –
the way it looks like she is using two fingers or even three, but is really only using one; the way her torso is blurred just enough to make you wonder whether she has a tattoo; the way his first finger and thumb form a C, teasing dually at her vaginal and anal entrances
– before letting out a sigh and clicking away.
I wonder, via text message, whether he’s seen it yet.
“Not yet,” he replies, and I message back with what I know will be a tempting teaser, simply saying:
“It reminds me of us.”