It's that time of night

When I notice the subtle dripping, and wandering of my fingers, over my shoulders, arms, and collarbone. My thoughts are heavy and  dark,  as images of things to come unfurl in my mind.  I come back to the realization that it's my own hands which have walked themselves across the satiny soft skin of my breasts, fingertips swirling around each perky pink bud of a nipple with slow precision, as if someone else was controlling the gentle caresses I made upon myself, bringing the slow measured gasps from my lips, the slight wriggling of my hips. I imagine your silhouette in my bathroom doorway, steam rising off of your freshly showered form and your dark half hidden gaze roams over my  curled toes and flexing calves, and eventually to my hands which have slid down to stroke my slit, the occasional fingertip caressing my clit. I bite my lower lip, stifling a moan as a finger slips into my wetness gently stroking ad swirling between the soaked folds. My mind is wandering now wondering why you are just leaning there so far yet close enough that I can smell the soap tinged  beads of perspiration that glisten on the taught muscles of your neck and shoulders . A shudder ones through me as you finally push away from the door frame and stalk over to me, crawling atop my form to hold yourself above me teasingly close. I can feel the water dripping from you, splashing across my bare skin, causing my back to arch  which brings perked nipples just millimeters from your chest. I  bring one of my moistened hands up, to trace a finger over your lips, yet just as I'm about to touch that soft pink flesh  my eye's blink open and are momentarily blinded by the rectangular slats of morning light intruding through my half opened blinds.