Whose Fingers Are On Me?

A storm brew outside in the dark with thunderclaps and lightning hot on each others’ heels as I stir half awake from my sleep. That's not what shakes me awake though.

The slow crawl of fingers up the back of my thighs lures me into a sleepy haze and arouse warmth to pull between my legs. It has me growling like a starved animal and smiling from an erotic high.

Thunder strikes and, just like a dehypnotic cue, its loud claps drag me out of mesmerising lust back to reality.

My one room apartment is dark, lonely and noiseless just as it has been for the longest, with no lover or companion and of course out of bounds to anyone asides me.

Another round of thunder booms and the crawling fingers don't cease their slow inch up my thighs.

This time I'm not excited. I'm dripping with sweat as my spine goes rigid, heartbeats double in speed and eyes screw shut.

My head is a confused mess as the only thought it seems to process is “Whose fingers are on me?”

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Phew! I gave drabble a shot and failed by eighty-one words long. Nonetheless Lovelies, I hope you enjoy this piece. React with the ferocity of a flight of dragons and don’t shy away from spreading your thoughts in the comments section like butter on bread if you enjoyed the read.
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Until next time… Peace!

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