Hello Doctor- A Spicy Audio Story by Salty Vixen

Welcome to another episode of Bedtime Stories with Salty Vixen. Tonight’s story is titled “Hello, Doctor” Dear Sir, I love to watch you breathe.The rise and fall of your torso, its regularity sometimes stalled and spluttered by the race of your words, your rush to express yourself.  And all I can do is try to concentrate on your words when I would rather be kissing your lips and smoothing the stutter of your breath to sigh and release. I want to feel your tongue held between my teeth, to breathe in your gasp as my cool fingers snake under the fabric of your shirt and ripple over the warmth of your skin.

I want to make you want me as much as I want you.

I want to turn your breath ragged with need and feel its warmth against my body, whispering over my breasts, jagged against my inner thighs and panting feral against the back of my neck as your body covers me and your cock fills me.

Until then I watch you breathe and imagine kissing the soft inner pout of your lip.

Do you know why you are my thought muse? Because you light a fire in me. No man has done that since… let’s begin..

I offer myself to you; on my knees, taut, shapely buttocks raised towards you for your delectation. My elbows and knees press down into the crisp white sheets, sheets pulled tight across the marital bed, sheets that we are about to defile. Why is this familiar, Doctor? Oh yes… from our sexting relationship. You had entered my dream last night, as my desire for you is still very strong… or it it my emotions of being lonely? Either way, makes a hot story!

You questioned the wisdom of my desire when I announced it almost breathlessly during our phone call three days before. “I want you in my bed,” I pouted, in that tone I know this unleashes the beast within you, as my words of fuck unleashed your animal desire within you, to masturbate for me and show me how much milk came out of your beautiful cock. Oh, Yes, Sir, that turned me on so fucking much.

Yet you questioned it still, and only partly out of concern that we might be unexpectedly interrupted. The prospect of taking me here smacks of some kind of sacrilege, even though you have already helped me to corrupt my vows a dozen times…and yours too. It is an addiction. Fucking. Sexting. The desire that never goes away, even when it ended because of the thrill, am I right, Sir?

I want it, and you want me …

so you surrender to my lust and your own, with only the briefest shudder of conscience. There’s guilt waiting for you down the road a ways, but for now, it is forgotten in the sight and the scent of my excitement.

I am naked but for hold-up stockings with deep lace bands, and the briefest of briefs. You have a predilection for panties that cover all of a woman’s behind, garments that serve to preserve the mystery a little longer, that allow you to unveil me at your own pace. What I’ve chosen to wear for you this afternoon …

I might as well not have bothered.

A finger width of material descends down from the narrow waistband, cleaving my cheeks in two. The dainty triangle of lace and cotton that points upwards to meet the thong barely covers the fleshiness of my freshly depilated vulva. My crinkled rosebud peeks out from behind the strip of cotton, taunting you with its taboo presence. I look whorish, a Salty Vixen, just the way you like it and, and the sight of me reduces you to little more than a slavering dog and that turns me on.

I cup my head in my hands, fingers straying absently through the luxuriant locks.

“Fuck me,” I whisper. “I want you to fuck me hard. I want you to make me come screaming.”

You can tell in the languid wafting of my hips, in the silvery stain that darkens the center of the material obscuring my cunt from your gaze. You can tell in the fire and the hunger in my eyes as I look back over my shoulder at you.

You are already naked, your beautiful cock hard, proud, unbridled. You bring the burnished glans against me, pressing my panties into my cleft until the cotton is sodden, until I am gasping, until I am wriggling and pressing myself back to meet me, as though I want you to penetrate me through my thong itself, to tear the material apart with the force of your need for me.

Try ease the soaking cotton aside. The beauty of me unveiled sex makes you pause.

“Fuck me!” I say again, imploring now.

We fuck, have sex, kiss and cuddle and cannot stop swimming through this sexual of sea of ecstasy. Even when you are  inside of me  You stop, so you can go down and suck on my wetness. Even when you are inside of me, I stop, so I can take your cock into my mouth and moan and drive you absolutely fucking crazy with desire.

We are foreplay and sex and post coitus all rolled into one fiery ball for hours upon night hours.

Exposed, my rosebud tempts you with the promise of forbidden pleasures, of tightness and heat and darkness the like of which you have never known with me. Yet I want you to defile me, to defile this place held sacred within the bounds of my marriage, and because my cunt was promised only to him, you thrust into it and take it for your own.

Do you still fantasize about me, Sir? I do as you are my sex thought muse….