I like to touch my partner when I am driving with him. Or to have him touching me. Just to stay connected.
To hold hands, like we are 12 years old, all innocent-like.
Or to reach over and rest my hand on his thigh, feel him shift ever so slightly closer so that I don’t have to stretch quite so far.
But best of all, I like to take his hand, slip it between my legs, slide it up my thighs, and pull it tight up against my pussy. It fits there like it belongs, intimate and sexy.
I like how it feels warm and heavy against me.
I like the pressure of it tucked up hard between my thighs.
I like that I can feel the back, the palm, the edge of his hand for maximum skin on skin.
I like how his fingers curl down over my inner thigh and hold me.
I like the implied possibility of his touch against my crotch.
I like to slip my hand down there beside his, my fingers between his fingers, to get more contact, because however much I am touching him, it is never enough.
And sometimes, I like to tease him.
I like to ask him if he would like to stroke against the material there with his little finger, pushing the fabric between the lips of my pussy, creating a valley to run his fingertips against me, to press against the heat there, to tease me into dampness.
I like it when the teasing hardens his cock, makes him squirm, makes him struggle not to move his fingers against me, makes him hope that I will give permission.
All of that I like when I am driving because, well, when I am driving, he just seems so very far away from me.