“I’m going to try to get an early flight in,” Nathan texted me. I didn’t expect him to arrive until Saturday, so this was an unexpected surprise.
“Great! Any particular reason?” I texted back.
“I want you,” was the short reply. That was enough kindle my fire. And it wasn’t even 8:00 in the morning yet.
I leaned back in my seat during my commute to work, arching my back against the supple leather. The need inside me was rising. Once there, I sashayed into the office, swinging my hips more than usual. The red and black wrap dress I wore swirled around my thighs. It was going to be a long day.
Around noon my phone chimed. It was a writer friend of mine (with whom I’ve shared some lusty thoughts) asking about my weekend plans.
“Nathan is trying to get here early,” I replied.
“Oh! Are you on edge?” he asked, knowing about our relationship.
“Yes. A lot. I need my bones jumped badly right now.”
“Don’t tell me that… no wait. Keep telling me that,” he said.
And what followed from him got me completely twisted up.
“I wish I worked closer to you,” he wrote, “I’d take you out for a quickie several times a week. I’d stroke my cock while I watched you undress for me. Then I’d come over and turn you around, caress your hair and softly kiss your neck while pressing my erection into the small of your back. And then I’d play with your nipples to see if I could get a reaction. And then I’d put my knee between your legs to spread them a little. And then my hand might venture down to graze your pussy to check the situation.”
“Oh my gosh. You’re making me start to ache,” I replied.
“I want your orgasm. I want to feel you. That’s what I would whisper. And then I would turn you around. Facing me. And then I would kneel.”
“And my hand would feel your pussy, spread the lips a little. I would have you on display for my eyes. And then I would begin licking that fabulous pussy of yours. Because I had never done it before, I would begin licking and exploring with my tongue and fingers very gently.”
“You devil. You are trying to make me come.”
“I want to see how long you can stand on your own. Not long. Because I would be able to feel it coming.”
“I would need something to hold on to.”
“No, you wouldn’t. I wouldn’t allow that. You could only grab my head. And I would taste as your buildup started to commence its rage. Bracing for the torrent. Your legs would open wider and your head would be thrown back. And I would be pressing harder with my mouth and tongue. And my thumb would be pressing your clit. And you would stop moaning and start to beg me. And then I’d lift you up and carry you to the bed. That’s what I’d do baby. You would be on the bed with your arms above your head and your legs spread and knees bent. And I would go back down on you because that’s what I want to do to you right now. I want to taste you. I want to feel you. I want to feel the quake of your orgasm on my face. I want to feel you come again and again and again. And then I want to drag you and stand you up beside the bed. Then I want to push your back and head down while holding your hands above your head in a vice grip with my hands. And then I would enter you from behind. Slowly.”
“I can’t breathe.”
“Would something like that work for you?”
“It would more than work.”
“Too bad I don’t live nearby.”
“No kidding. Now you have me completely on edge. And it’s too busy a day and the walls are too thin for me to close my door and do anything about it. Besides. I don’t want to get myself off after that. I want someone else to do it for me. Damn you.”
Ten minutes later Jack walked in with a serious question about a serious project. My mind was mush. I looked up at him. I saw his eyes widen as he read the lust in my own. Hell, I was so turned on I probably smelled like sex. My gaze lowered to his chest, then his belt, then his crotch. His trousers twitched, then tented.
“Jack you have a call on zero,” rang the page through the office.
“May I take it in here?” he asked me.
“Certainly,” I said, moving my chair over as he walked around my desk and behind me.
Jack took his call, allowing his erection to graze my shoulder as he answered questions on a project. I quivered and shifted so he could see down the front of my V-necked dress. He pressed against me harder. When he hung up the phone, he walked back around my desk and stood in front of me, his hands in his pockets, pulling the fabric tight, showcasing the hard cock inside. He grinned. I grinned. Both of us knew there was nothing we could do about the raging lust in the air, nothing we could even say. He adjusted himself so it wasn’t as noticeable while my tongue licked my upper lip. He walked out while I sat there, unable to think of anything except a good, hard fuck. At least Nathan will be in town tonight to take care of me, I thought.
Around 3:00 my phone chimed with a text from Nathan, “I’m not going to make it after all. All the flights were full.”
My pussy wept. And then began to scheme. I paced my office. Desperate. I picked up my phone.
“What time do you get home,” I texted Lover, still pacing.
“Can I come over? I need fucking. Badly,” I wrote.
“Sure, but I have to leave at 4:30.”
“Shit. I can’t be there before 4:40.”
“I have an early date. Let me see if I can move it back.”
“Or I can come over after your date,” I texted, ignoring the total wrongness of the situation.
“That’ll work.” he replied, “It should be over around 7:30. I’ll let you know. Don’t flake out on me. I want you bad.”
I sat down and let out a sigh. The promise of relief was nigh.
Lover called as soon as his date ended, letting me know when he’d be home. Then he called again to make sure I was on the way. The need in his voice matched the ache in my loins.
I backed into his driveway at 8:37. Almost 12 hours exactly from the time Nathan’s text had keyed me up. Nathan. The man I really wanted. The man who wasn’t there.
I walked up the three shallow steps to Lover’s door and knocked.
“It’s open,” he yelled from somewhere deep inside.
I turned the knob and pushed. It wasn’t. I knocked again. His footsteps pounded through the house as he ran to the door and swung it open wide.
“Hey,” he said smiling, his brown eyes twinkling above his full winter beard.
“Hey,” I said smiling back.
Two quick paces and I landed in his arms. The kiss… oh the kiss. He devoured my lips like a drowning man, pulling me tight against him. My fingers raked through the back of his head, rumpling his thick brown hair.
“I need a drink,” he said, breaking away and walking over to his makeshift bar.
I followed, my hands tracing the muscles under his fleece jacket. As he poured, I reached around his waist from behind and unbuckled his belt and then unbuttoned his jeans. He got the hint and poured faster. We shared a sip of his whisky and coke on ice.
“You weren’t kidding,” he said, “You do need fucking.”
“Uh huh,” I nodded, while tugging at his clothes. He was naked in seconds, his masterpiece of a long, hard cock finally on display. Still dressed, I dropped to my knees and took him in my mouth, sucking the giant helmeted head. My greedy tongue flicked around the end as I looked up at him with hungry eyes.
“Someday I’m gonna film that,” he said, “Damn. You have no idea how hot you are to watch.”
The corner of my mouth turned up in a smile while I continued bathing his cock with my saliva. He tasted so good.
“You gotta stop,” he said, pulling away, “or you aren’t gonna get yours.”
I stopped. And stood. Quickly I unbuttoned, stepped out of my jeans and shed my jacket while he rummaged in his dresser for condoms. (Safe sex people… just sayin’)
“Hurry baby,” I choked, walking around to stand against his antique iron bed. I had reached frenzy level. Perched on the edge I spread my legs as he stepped between them, his cock in hand. The hard tip brushed against me and I ground into it. Taking the cue, he began to rub the head against the shaft of my clit. I moaned and spread my legs further. He stroked against me harder and faster. My feet came off the floor as he scooted beneath me, the back of my legs resting on the top of his thighs. It felt like my entire body was being supported by his cock, which he was rubbing against me almost as fast as my vibrator. I grabbed the bed and came, squirting as I did so.
“There it is,” he said, not stopping the pleasure.
I came again. And again. And again. On the fourth wave he slipped inside while simultaneously lifting my legs so that my ankles framed his face. Finally. Finally my channel was being filled as it had been aching to be all day. He crashed against me with the fierceness of a rutting bear. Deep. Hard. To the point of hurt. He reached inside my tank top and pulled out my breasts, so they spilled over, bouncing hard with each thrust. Still he pounded me.
“Water,” I finally cried, “I need water.”
We broke apart for hydration. And kisses. Long, luscious kisses. Even now my lips feel bruised from them.
On his bed we began again, this time both of us completely naked. My heavy breasts fell on his hips bones, framing his cock as I took him into my mouth. My right hand ran up his stomach to his chest and then to his shoulders, arms and down to his hand. Balanced on my knees, with his hard shaft between my lips, both my hands began slowly, firmly massaging his body. I touched every inch of him, from ankles to wrists. I could feel the passion rising in him as the writhed beneath me, arching to each touch.
“Oh my god, Marian!” He exclaimed, “I’m 33 years old and I’ve never experienced that.”
Lover pulled my face off his cock and up to his own, breathing in my exhales and biting my lips while his strong hands gripped my shoulders.
“I need inside you again,” he growled.
This time he entered me from behind, in almost exactly the same way my writer friend had described earlier in the day. Except he didn’t grab my wrists. Instead he wrapped his arms around me, grasping my breasts and pulling me to him, his chest tight against my back. I shuddered in pleasure, the frenzy finally fading, limp from the wealth of orgasms I had experienced.
Later, as I nestled in his arms I asked him, “Do all the girls you fuck come like this? This many times?”
He looked sheepish and said, “Well… no. Not exactly.”
“I don’t see how they help it,” I marveled, “If you treat them like this.”
“Well,” he looked away, “That’s sorta it.”
I frowned, puzzling out what he was trying to say. Or not say.
“Really it’s just you and this one other girl I sometimes see that do,” he said.
I was quite, waiting for him to explain.
“You and her, you’re the ones who care about me the most.”
“Oh,” I said, getting it at last, “You don’t try as hard with the other ones.”
“No, I don’t,” he admitted.
I tenderly stroked his face and kissed his cheek, “I love you in my own weird way, you know,” I said.
“Yeah, I know,” he smiled, “That’s why I fuck you like I do.”