I blame your eyes and the look that lies within them.
I blame your hands. Your fingers. The way it feels when you stroke your fingers up and down my arm. I blame your body and the way it feels against my own, feeling its warmth, its strength, its desire.
I blame your cock and the way it pressed up against me all the time you were stood behind me on the bus ride home.
The way it felt through your denim jeans, the way it felt against my stockinged legs.
You created this mess I am in.
You have created the wetness.
You created the situation.
So, lick me clean.