When he came over, he smiled, as if it were the first time he was seeing me.
Everything felt new.
He stumbled, taking off his clothes, I felt nervous for him to see my body.
But the way he touched me was as if his hands had touched me a million times before.
He kissed my lips softly, really feeling them, as if it were the first time.
But it wasn’t.
His hands explored my shoulders, back, ass and sides as though my skin was a braille story telling him everything he needed to know.
He then sucked on my breasts, kissed down my stomach, ate my pussy and fingered my ass.
I kissed his neck, down his chest, sucked his dick and his balls.
It was all so familiar, and yet, we'd done this dance many times before.
While my lips closed around his cock, he fucked me in the ass with my butt plug until he could no longer resist.
He turned me around and pushed his dick into me while he continued to play with the butt plug.
It was Heaven.
His moves were strong and sure, but full. He made sure I came twice before he let himself feel the same pleasure.
Before I could collect myself, he took my magic wand and put it on my clit.
I screamed into my pillow.
Afterwards, we laid together, in each other's arms catching each other up on our lives.
Remembering all the times before.
What was different, what was the same…
What we'd miss.
He dressed, slower than usual.
We hugged, longer than ever.
And as I waved goodbye, I knew I'd never see him again.
I wanted her.
I wanted her more than I'd wanted anyone else before.
More than food.
More than breath.
With every fiber of my being, I wanted her.
But she was someone else's.
Every day, he'd get to wake up to her beautiful face
He'd get to hear her crazy laughter, see her beautiful smile...
Eat that beautiful pussy.
He'd get to make her love to her, kiss her smooth dark skin that appeared to glow from within, be inside of her.
Feel her in ways I could only grasp in my dreams.
Because as sure as I am about being able to give her everything,
She'll never see me that way.
Doesn't change the facts though.
I still wanted her...
I still wanted her more than I'd ever wanted anyone else before.
More than food.
More than breath.
With every fiber of my being, I STILL wanted her.
The first time was an accident. They'd been drinking throughout the night celebrating another one of their friend's nuptials.
As usual, people were feeling the romantic vibe.
For them, it was a mixture. Romance and lust.
With every minute that passed, every drink they had, every song they danced to brought them closer to being entangled, naked, sweating, and enjoying themselves privately soon enough.
When the happy couple departed, so did they.
Barely able to contain themselves through the hotel, once the elevator doors closed, they couldn't keep their hands off of one another.
Even after a year, the electricity of wanting one another was still wild, strong.
They fumbled into the room, still entwined in one another.
Most of his clothes had been removed, but only her panties had been torn off.
Normally, foreplay would be par for the course, but on nights like this, foreplay had been happening for hours.
She was plenty wet, and he was hard and straining.
Making their way to the bed, he laid her on the bed and pulled her to him sliding into her tight center.
Both let out groans of pleasure. Familiar and delicious.
Maybe it was the drinking. Maybe it was the unbridled lust for one another, but the sex was sending them to new levels of intimacy.
His hands dug into her shoulders, her nails dug into her back.
She bit his earlobe, he pushed as far into her as he possibly could.
Both rising, higher and higher into a sexual euphoric state.
His hands found their way to her ass as she simultaneously raised up meeting him mid stroke when it happened.
She let out a strangled groan. A mixture of pleasure and pain. He kept still, not sure what to do.
After what felt like an exorbitant amount of time, he began to pull away but she stopped him.
He swallowed heavily. Couldn't believe what they were doing.
He watched her face as he pushed deeper into her.
This was a different sensation. New. Forbidden. Exciting.
Soon, their familiar pace returned. His shaft was being stroked in a new way. He could tell things were different for her too. Her moans were more guttural sending shivers down his spine.
Her hands found his and squeezed as she came.
He felt like his cock was going to break in half. Soon he was filling her with his seed.
He then moved to her clit and began rubbing it causing her to squeeze him again until he was milked dry.
In the shower, they both laughed at the newfound shared experience, even talked through it.
It would be eight months later before they were invited to another wedding.
She sat next to him on the couch and opened the envelope bringing back memories of the night in question.
He wasn't going to say anything, but then she turned to him with a smile.
"I think we should bring lube this time. Just in case."
“Did it turn you on watching me get off to your picture?”
That question caught her off guard.
Her hands were full of dressing as she mixed all the ingredients for part of the Thanksgiving dinner that she was going to help serve tomorrow. The last thing she wanted was to be uncomfortably wet during the whole process.
Martin had been a guest of her brother’s this week, and from the moment he stepped in with his lean figure, smooth voice and thick lips, Veronica had been in a daze.
Three days of being in his presence had her thinking of all the ways he could bend her, stroke her, lick her and stick her.
From the way he licked his lips at her, she could only imagine he was thinking the same thoughts.
Then there was a matter of catching him stroking himself to her photo last night.
The pool of wetness that quickly began to pool between her legs was unlike she’d ever felt. Slipping two fingers in between her legs felt better than the first time she’d ever enjoyed the experience. She only wished it was him doing it to her.
If he was that good with himself, what could he do to her?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” she whispered to him, voice shaking.
He stepped up next to her, a hair’s breath away, but didn’t touch her.
“It’s okay. I liked it. I was wishing you walked in, but I guess you were busy out there touching yourself.”
Veronica was shaking with excitement.
“Did you want me to touch you?”
His breath was like hot coals on her skin lighting every part of her.
“Did you want your fingers to be my tongue licking your slit, and fucking you?”
She nodded again, her breath ragged, but her hands wouldn’t stop.
“Did you want me to slide my cock deep inside of you until you screamed out cumming all over my dick?”
“I wanted all of it.” she breathed out.
He smirked watching her shake.
Veronica’s eyes closed waiting on him to touch her. Waiting for him to kiss her, throw the ingredients off the counter and take her.
But nothing else came.
“I think you’ve mixed it enough girl. Put it in the refrigerator and set your alarm. We got an early day tomorrow.”
Veronica’s eyes went wide at the sound of her mother’s voice.
“Did you hear me?”
She pulled her hands out of the mixture and swallowed hard.
“Sorry, I’m just tired.”
Upstairs, as she passed the door to her bedroom, she wondered if it was all a dream. It was 3am. It could’ve been.
With a sigh, she began to walk by until she heard…
She loves it when he's on his knees
He may be the head of the company,
but once in her domain, he doesn't even rate to speak unless spoken to.
He controls boardrooms with the tip of his pen.
She controls him with whips, whispers, and floggers.
He loves having his balls smacked.
He loves licking her leather boots.
He comes every time she pegs him. He's never ashamed to beg for more.
Yes, he controls everyone in his employ, making them do any and everything he so desires.
But she makes him go home smelling like her used up play thing to kiss his wife and children before he can even think about taking a shower.
Regardless of all the humiliation, punishment, and reward,
she loves it when he's on his knees.
It means he's earned the right to please her
And she finally gets to come.
When he touches me, goosebumps instantly raise up on my flesh everywhere except where we're making contact. No, that spot is searing with a fire like no other. There's no stopping what happens next. It's inevitable.
Hands. Lips. Body.
The before, however. That is what makes it worthwhile.
It starts with his eyes. I can always tell when those steely blue orbs pierce me. It sends my heart rate skyrocketing. It's how he begins to touch me. As if his eyes had the power to reach out and caress me in the most intimate areas even whilst I stand in the middle of a crowd.
He then begins to stalk me.
Like I'm his prey.
In truth, I'd gladly be his rabbit if it meant he would pounce. He won't though. He enjoys watching me squirm. I can only imagine that it gives him pleasure to watch as I grow hot with desire at his ability to toy with me from afar.
It begins to feel like it'll never end.
The heat mixed with cold chills makes people wonder.
Among all the smiles and laughter; the conversation and gossip, he glides grazing me with phantom touches. Smiling at a sight I must be, barely able to carry on intelligible conversation. He get’s me to the point where I need to excuse myself before I’m embarrassed beyond retribution.
But it’s not a bathroom I seek.
I find a place where I can be alone.
A broom closet, an empty room, a dark and isolated corner.
Any place where I can finally calm this unrelenting urge he's unleashed within me.
It's the eye of the storm, and even though I know what's coming, I'm never prepared.
I don't even know he’s in the room until it's too late. It's these moments that he decides to pounce.
Hands. Lips. Body.
I'm catapulted into the stratosphere.
When he touches me.
It’s been a long day.
Nothing has been going right. His book, rejected. His publicist left him. He's on thin ice at the newspaper as his last three assignments were late.
He’s tired and frustrated.
Without a word, he goes into the house and runs himself a hot bath.
The bubbles are gone even before he has the chance to get in.
Perfect reflection on what has been a shit day.
He doesn't bother to look up when his girlfriend comes into the bathroom. She pulls the stool up next to the tub.
He still has yet to look at her.
Doesn’t want to.
Doesn’t want her to see the disappointment he’s feeling after failing. Again.
She doesn’t pressure him to look or speak. She simply takes the sponge and soap and builds up a good lather.
Even without words, her gentle washing speaks volumes. She begins at his chest letting her fingers graze ever so lightly over his nipples that she knows are incredibly sensitive.
An involuntary hiss escapes him.
Her light touch continues down his chest, washing him with great care.
His eyes finally look over to meet hers. They are full of love and caring.
He's entranced and can't look away.
Expertly, she moves down his far leg careful not to venture where he now aches to be touched the most.
Slowly, purposefully, she comes up the other side on the leg closest to her.
He bites his bottom lip as the sponge is forgotten.
Her hand is like a firm silk glove as she takes a hold of his throbbing manhood that has only grown with her skillful touches.
Even as he nears climax, his eyes never waver from hers.
His relief is blissful, his anguish no longer a crashing down on him.
Maybe tomorrow will be a better day.