I'd wanted him so long it felt as though my feelings must be affecting him. Every night I thought of him- soft thoughts at first- him telling me how he felt about me, how much he loved me, kissing me and stroking my face. Then the nighttime would get to me, infiltrate me.
I imagined how it would feel to press myself close against him whilst we kissed, his tongue hard and insistent in my mouth, his hands cupping my buttocks and pulling my hips towards him, my breasts crushed against his chest as I wrapped my arms about his neck. I felt the tingling, seeping wetness between my thighs and I wanted him so much as I put my hand there and touched myself in circles until I came with a shuddering suddenness that didn't satisfy me.
We'd met a few months ago through a mutual friend and I found his rumpled brown curls and gleaming grin instantly attractive, how could I not? He was no gym buff, but his body was hard and solid, with broad shoulders and a nice round bum. I smiled up at him every few minutes and blushed when he spoke to me, I must have been so pathetically obvious to him and everyone else there. He did kiss me, briefly, but passionately, in the car park of the pub at the end of the evening, I got all excited and went home with a happy grin on my face, but the whisky taste of his mouth should have been a warning β I was just a drunken mistake.
In the time I have known him, Nick and I have grown closer and closer. We speak most evenings on the Internet or the phone and see each other once or twice a week at the cinema or the pub. Once we even went out to dinner and I felt thrills of excitement run through me whenever our feet touched under the table. I put my hand on his leg when he was driving me home and gently rubbed my fingers across the tender inner part of his thigh, but he didn't react in any way except to smile sadly and I pulled my hand back and folded myself into my seat, whilst keeping up an act of merry cheeriness that I found exhausting.
He's been away these last couple of weeks. So have I and I haven't seen him for a little over a month. My attraction to him has become almost obsessive and it has been so hard to stop myself calling or texting him every second of the day. He is always present in my thoughts and, like I said before, it seems so hard to believe that such prolonged and intense sexual thoughts haven't somehow reached him and made him feel the same towards me.
I dress myself carefully, I am seeing him this evening and I know the impression I make must be just right. I pick out a pair of white net knickers that ride low on my hips and tie at the sides with thin, silky ribbons. They manage to look naughty and virginal at the same time and I find the fact that they could be ripped off with just 2 sharp tugs to the bows an incredible turn on. A white, lace bra that supports my naturally large breasts so they appear as two full globes over the top of my low cut, white t-shirt and a tight denim skirt with a bright pink belt to add some colour.
I dry my hair so it looks come-to-bed messy and put on blusher and mascara. I want to look natural, sexy and as if I hadn't bothered to make any effort at all. As soon as I see him this impression is blown to hell. My face flushes deeper pink than any blusher could make it and I stammer my hellos β he has a girl with him.
I smile politely at her and feel my heart sinking. Soon two more of our friends turn up and as I chat, brightly false, to one of them I discover that she is an ex. I feel my whole body relax suddenly and grin at Nick with a smile so wide it nearly split my face. He smiled back and instantly my mind switched into fantasy mode β He is between my legs, looking up at me mischievously while his fingers push inside me and his tongue flickers across my swollen, sensitive clit. I can feel my eyes glazing over and the moisture flooding my pussy again, my lips are dry and as I run my tongue over them I notice Nick watching me and his face is tense and flushed. Our eyes meet and I smile nervously, but he just looks at me with this hungry intensity and I know that now he wants me.
Still I am unsure and I am unsurprised when he breaks the eye contact and starts to type a text out on his mobile. I pick up my drink and gaze at the bottom of the glass dispiritedly, it's lemonade. I can't even get drunk because I have to drive myself home. Suddenly my handbag buzzes quietly against my ankle. I reach down and pull out my mobile : 1 new message. Unknowing I slowly flick through the menus to read the message and I'm utterly unprepared for the simple missive from Nick, who I now see is rising from the wooden pub bench and saying his farewells. "Your car in 5 minutes."