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After a long, busy day, I finally undressed, sank into the comfort of my mattress and settled down under the duvet. Alone at last. I could hear the low hum of the TV downstairs and felt safe in the knowledge that my boyfriend had never come up to bed before the end of Match of the Day in the three years that we’d lived together. Which left me plenty of time for some self indulgence.

I let my hands wander, stroking down my body, pulling up my sheer top. Feeling the curves of my full breasts and gently pinching my nipples. My right hand continuing further down, leaving goose bumps across my torso, until it was hovering over my clit through the soft fabric of my knickers. Barely allowing my fingers to make contact, I teased my clit. Gently stroking back and forth as my mind conjured images of a handsome stranger whose only desire was to please me. I glazed over the specifics of my faceless, imaginary man as I imagined that my fingers were his mouth. I could almost feel his breath on my thighs as I envisaged him nuzzling my pussy through my knickers. I imagined looking down my body and seeing him between my legs, looking up into my eyes. Eager to taste me.

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