It’s been such a long time since we have seen other face-to-face I’m really not sure what to expect. We have spoken on the phone, e-mailed, flirted, laughed and I think I know the feelings we have for each other are still there. But is the chemistry? Deep-down I know it’s all good, but it’s a complicated situation and one that an over-thinker like me can tie myself up in knots over. What if he doesn’t want me like he used to?
Getting ready to go out, massaging lotion into my body, dressing myself in stockings, suspenders and a lace camisole I try to calm myself down. Chill out – it will be fine – it will be better than fine. As I put on the last of my make-up, bright-red lipstick, I take a good look in the mirror and am pleasantly surprised. The dress shows off my curves nicely, and I hope that he will be proud to be seen with me – ironic considering our circumstances.
As I go to meet him in the bar, he looks up from his phone and says I look, ‘beautiful’ which gives me a kick in my step. We are going out for a meal, Italian, in a strange little place. There is no-one there really, except us (which is perfect as we definitely don’t want to see anyone else). Despite having had my menu for a good ten minutes, I can’t choose my food, mostly because I can barely think straight watching him from across the table, my mind racing ahead to what will happen once we have finished our meal.
We orders things to share – I love the fact that he shares his food with me – a silly thing really but it just makes me happy, another little sensual pleasure between us. We spend a wonderful few hours having a delicious meal, chatting, laughing, and drinking whilst I watch him slowly begin relax in front of my eyes I noticed my own nerves had dissipated – partly due to alcohol, partly due to all the little reassurances I am getting from him. The food is delicious and the wine is tasty, cold and plentiful. Then abruptly, he decides that is it – it is time to leave. It seems in a matter of minutes we are being driven quickly through the streets of London by a taxi driver who seems to sense the urgency between us to be alone.
As soon as I walk through the door I stretch out on the expansive bed, soft, crisp white sheets enveloping me. He joins me on the bed and leans across to kiss me with tentative, almost hesitant, first kisses. He smells amazing. He tastes of wine and cigarettes – and something else I can never place – just the taste of him. Nerves and excitement charge through my body.
He kisses me again and again; I am in transports of delight. I’m sure it’s the way he kisses me that made me fall so hard for him, well that and the fact he knows exactly how to handle me –and not just in bed. I’m not sure many other people really get me like he does; I can’t get anything past him. I could happily kiss him forever. He teases me, starting gently at first and then more insistently. He takes my top lip, then my bottom lip in his lips, gently running his tongue along my lips, probing softly into my mouth – heaven. I reciprocate the kiss, trying ineffectually to take some sort of command of the situation but as usual, he takes the lead and – as usual, I give in and surrender utterly.
I pull my dress off over my head revealing my unnecessarily complicated under-wear worn for his benefit. I feel like a fake, my unhelpful self-doubt is telling me I am no-where near attractive enough to be wearing this get-up and I look ridiculous. He looks at me smiling, taking it all in and says, “Wow!” I blush contentedly – I mentally tell my unhelpful self-doubt to fuck off and let me enjoy the rare moments we have together.
We begin to kiss again and he releases my breasts from my bra with one hand, whilst the other traces the lines of my body. He pulls my camisole down and begins kissing my breasts, my nipples. I don’t really know how to explain what he does but it sends me wild, my body doesn’t normally do this to me – just part of his ability to ‘work me’ better than anyone else.
I raise myself up to look at him, taking in every detail of his strong body, as he lies back confidently on the bed. Initially kissing his full soft lips, I work my way down his strong flat chest, his toned stomach and inevitably downwards. His cock is full and hard, arching away from his smooth groin. I adore his smooth, stiff cock – and having it in my mouth even more. I love to lick his shaft up and down slowly and take his head into my mouth, and then take him gently into my mouth as much as I can. I want him to come in my mouth, but not just yet.
He flips me onto my front and begins removing my suspender belt – hook by hook, then my suspenders and finally the lace knickers. It thrills me whenever he moves me roughly or pins me to the bed with his strong, muscular arms; surrendering control to him is utter bliss. Then he turns me onto my back once more pinning my legs wide open and holding me down firmly with his hands he begins licking my clit. His expert movements teasing, circling, electrifying me, building his pace until his quick, flicking tongue has me on the edge. As he begins to use his fingers in my pussy and my ass it just becomes too much, I don’t lose it yet but the intensity is pushing me too far.
Just in time, he breaks away and stands at the foot of the bed and pulls me onto my knees guiding my mouth onto his cock, I obligingly take his cock into my mouth. Taking my head into his hands by my hair, he takes control of the pace and rhythm, fucking me in the mouth.
A few moments later, he pushes me back onto the bed and spreads my legs abruptly and pushes himself inside me, raising my legs and thrusting into me, I slip away from him and turn onto all fours, moving back to him so he could fuck me from behind. I can feel his cock deeper inside me – he’s hitting a spot that sends wave of pleasure through me too. It crosses my mind that I wish I could see what he can see, his cock sliding in and out of my pussy. I think about asking him to take a picture for me to see, but I somehow I don’t.
As soon as he withdraws and lays back on the bed, I begin to lick and suck his cock again – I can taste my own juices on him, the extra delight of that, tasting myself on him. I fall back on the bed exhilarated and exhausted and begin to touch my clit, he kneels over me and begins to touch himself. I love the sight of him, so strong and masculine above me, cock in his hand. I make some flippant comment about not minding washing my hair, hoping he would get the idea. He had come on my tits before, which I loved. But tonight, for the first time ever, I find myself wanting a man to come on my face. This man, whom I rarely see, but somehow I still share this intimate bond with. I try desperately to memorise the image of him. I continue to touch myself, watching him do the same, impatient for him to come, wanting him to have as much pleasure as I am. Finally, as he lets out a soft groan I feel the warm silky droplets of cum on my face, through my hair and resting on my hot, soft lips.
I am so close to orgasm I cannot stop and continue to touch myself, silently entreating him not to get up or move away. Not only does he not move away, he begins to gently kiss my face, and then my lips. He licks carefully and deliberately over my top lip, and then my bottom lip, spreading his own cum over my lips in the process. He gently parts my lips with his tongue, and moves his tongue lightly inside my mouth. I can taste his cum on his tongue inside my mouth, kissing me sensually and slowly. Not just the overwhelming sensations, but also the idea of what he is doing drives me wild; I can hold-on no longer and come hard and fast.
As I sit and write this, I can still vaguely taste him in my mouth, the smell of him – and of us together – is on my clothes. I take a deep, long breath, knowing it’s time to shower and wash my clothes, to remove any trace of him – for the time being.