Wor Can Wait

I can't help smiling to myself as I lean on the door frame (yes, that door frame), still naked, my arms folded across my chest, watching you.

You're on the bed, laying on your front, resting on your forearms, reading: a wonderful vision of naked serenity. Blissfully unaware. Lost in your book, in your thoughts.

A restful calm washes through me like a gentle wave and I drift for a moment. It carries me over you, from your pretty feet - polished toes aimlessly jostling each other - up the back of your calves and knees to your thighs, and then settles on the inviting crease where they meet your bottom. I stroke my chin and neck, rasping my stubble, and wonder.

You turn a page. I stay on mine. I could read it over and over and over again. You move a little, adjusting your position, opening your legs a touch. I smile, take a breath and start the passage again. Then you turn your head and look over your shoulder at me.

"You'll be late," you say, as I amble towards you, gathering up my work clothes carelessly strewn about the floor.

I stop next to you, step into my shorts, pull them up my thighs and fold my stiffening cock into the front before carefully zipping up the fly.

You wince, then grin.

'Commando?' You ask, raising your eyebrows.

I reach down, grab the pair of still warm knickers from off the bed next to you and stuff them in my pocket.

'For the time being,' I reply, grinning back.

Then holding my shirt behind me, I bend over and plant a long, soft kiss on your ass, earning myself a quiet chuckle and a sexy little shiver.

Time to go.

Except I don't get very far. I step through the doorway and stop, staring at the wall opposite. I shake my head and rub a hand over my stubbled face once more. What the fuck am I doing? Work can wait.

I thought you'd be immersed in your book again when I turn around to look at you, but you're not. You're still watching me over your shoulder.

"You forget something?" You ask, with a wicked little smirk.

"Nope," I reply, dropping my shirt.

Your face softens. Your smile, your look, you - so fucking sexy. I'd make a fortune if I could bottle it...and stop myself from drinking it all.

"How's the book?" I ask, nodding towards it.

"Okay," you say, pursing your lips a little. "Rumour has it he's the next Nicholas Sparks, but..." You wrinkle your nose. "I'm not so sure."

I give you a wry smile then unzip my shorts and let them drop to the floor. We both watch my thickening cock bob free.

"And I'm not sure you should let me go to Mrs Palmer's like this," I say, grinning. "Especially as she always gives me such lovely fruit cake on Tuesdays."

You pretend to pout momentarily, as though annoyed that your reading is about to be disturbed by my fooling, but your face is a picture of lust and mischief as your eyes slowly move down my body. It never grows old, that want. Seeing it in you. Feeling it in me.

I step up to the bed, kneel on the floor beside you, lean forward on the edge of the mattress and kiss the small of your back.

"Have you made yourself some lunch?" You ask in a whisper, still looking over your shoulder.

"Yep," I whisper back, moving my lips down to the cleft of your ass.

"And packed your tools?"

"Mmm," I reply, gently kissing between your buttocks. "All bar one."

"S...so..." You stutter a little as I move my face down further to the base of your ass and the delicious swell of your pussy. "You're good to go then?"

"Mmm," I mumble again, as I take one plump ass cheek in each hand, spreading you open, and press my tongue to you.

Fuck me, you taste good. So fucking good. You always do, like dessert and sin. I close my eyes and savour you again, raking the flat of my tongue across you, thigh to pussy to thigh.

"Nearly," I murmur.

Then I turn my head and look up at you.

You often catch me doing this. Gazing at you. It's something of a pastime of mine. You'll be standing in the kitchen in one of your long, bohemian dresses, or in the bathroom in just your bra and panties, and turn to find me staring at you, smiling like a halfwit. You usually just shake your head and smile back, often with a bit of a bemused blush. I think you despair of me sometimes, in that 'there really is no stopping him, is there?' type of way. I suspect you think I'm a bit soft in the head, but the truth is, it's my heart. I know you know that I'm a horny fucker - feral even sometimes - with a rock hard cock and fire in my veins, but when it comes to my heart, you've melted me. Or maybe we've melted each other.

You don't catch me this time because you're not looking at me anymore. You have your head down and I'm pretty sure that you're not reading your book. I listen to you slowly inhale and watch you open your legs a little further.

Can you bottle a view?

I run my tongue up into you again, just for another moment, then clamber onto the bed and on top of you.

You say that you love that - feeling my weight on you - leaning on my arms, softly kissing the nape of your neck with my stomach against your back, my legs gently squeezing yours and my cock pressed against your ass. You tell me how safe it makes you feel. I never know what to say.

"Sheri?" I whisper in your ear.

"Mmm," you reply.

"Have you got to the bit where they fuck yet?" I ask, brushing the side of your face with the tip of my nose.

"Almost," you reply in a breathy voice. "They're heading in that direction, but they're just talking now, having a moment...before the moment."

I flex my hips a little and nestle the long, hard length of my cock between your lovely, soft buttocks.

"She's telling him how nervous she is," you say, sighing.

I close my eyes and let the feel of you seep into me.

"Nerves are okay," I whisper against the side of your face. "Better than complacency."

"MmHmm," you purr.

I slowly peel myself off you and hold myself up. Taking your cue, you twist round and turn yourself over underneath me. And you slay me. You absolutely level me. Is that what I look like when I'm staring at you? All that love, desire and happiness: no wonder we smile so much.

We both simultaneously look down when my cock pulses causing its tip to nudge against the soft lips of your pussy. Then I shift my eyes to yours, squint a little, and pretend to bite my tongue as if deep in thought. You smile and breathe deeply, patiently. You can tell that I'm a long way from being complacent.

I lower my face and brush my lips across yours.

"What now?" I whisper.

"What now?" You repeat, then reach down, wrap your fingers around my shaft and guide it to the warmth of your entrance.

"I'm sure..."

You pause, just pressing the tip of my helmet into you. Testing. Teasing.

"You'll think...."

We look into each others eyes, both stifling quiet gasps.

"Of something."

Then, together, we move to slowly ease my cock inside you. Long and slow and deep, all the way inside you. I close my eyes and hold my breath. You feel so fucking good. So right.

You reach around me, slide both hands down my back, and grasp my ass, pulling me into you even further, holding us locked together. Then I whisper in your ear:

"I've given it some thought," I say, sighing, as I feel your pussy contract around my cock. "And I think I might just have to fuck you."

It's the sort of declaration sure to make you smile. You know the passion and intent that stands behind it. I won't let up until we're both gasping and moaning and cumming and calling out each other's names. Neither will you.

You grip my ass tighter, squeezing my buttocks.

"Go on then," your voice is hoarse with desire. "Do your worst."

Now it's my turn to smile.

We both look down the space between our joined bodies as I slowly begin to withdraw my cock from you. I love it so much - us, together, watching the entire length of my shaft, glistening with your delicious juices, gradually reappearing between us. I love that we share that same view. I love the feel of you gripping me and squeezing every drop of pleasure from me. And I love that you can feel just how hard you've made me.

I stare into your eyes, watching you lock into my soul, before they flicker and slowly close in ecstasy. You slide your smooth legs up my sides, capturing me between your knees, tilting your pelvis up to take me deeper, and I push my cock back inside you again in one long, relentless motion. We both moan at the sensation and you pull my mouth down to yours, kissing me until we're breathless.

That fire in my veins courses round my body, surging into every capillary, flushing my skin, as we slowly and irresistibly start to move together. Nothing else matters now as each deliberate thrust, each unifying flex of our hips, sends my cock gliding in and out of you, our breaths rasping, our hearts pounding.

We make love. Pure, unbridled love. It's not just the exquisite physical connection that has us gasping and speaking that eloquent, incoherent language of lovers, though. It hardly ever is. It's our emotional, spiritual connection, our resonance. Our slow, sensuous fucking is the physical expression of it all. There's little exertion - not yet - just an effortless synchronicity. Two minds, two hearts, two bodies in an intuitive choreography, working towards the same goal. Just as we are in life out there, outside this room. It's what makes this so fucking good.

I make a point of reducing our contact - holding myself above you on outstretched arms, just my cock moving in and out of your grasping pussy, and my balls gently brushing your soft, intimate flesh. You read and reciprocate, with just your hands on my hips, tempering our rhythm.

Less is more. Just for now. Until...

You watch my eyes map your body beneath me, fueling my desire. I watch your expression of longing and wanting, become increasingly intense: a mirror of my own. My cue. And I watch your sumptuous, decadent breasts rolling and bouncing in tandem with our thrusting, your hard nipples straining toward my chest, seeking the stimulation of contact.

Your hands are restless now, moving frantically over my body, from ass to shoulders, down my arms, squeezing my biceps, sneaking in to pinch and tease my sensitive nipples, before racing down to my buttocks again. Your urgency, your growing need is contagious. I have no immunity.

I pause, keeping myself pressed into you, keeping the pressure against your clit, as I know you love, trying to concentrate on my breathing. Trying to compose myself. Trying to stay in control, to hold off the inevitable.

"Don't move," I whisper, giving you a strained, sheepish grin.

You return a knowing, wanting smile as you feel my hardness throb inside you - that tell-tale pulsing.

I close my eyes, dropping my head, but can still see you, still feel you. I daren't open them and look at you. Not yet. Just a glimpse from you will send me over.

"Don't stop," you whisper back, flexing your hips and tightening yourself around me.

I can't. So I don't.

I lift my head, open my eyes, and there it is: the electrical frisson ignited between us.

Throwing my head back, I clench my teeth and growl, "Anything you say, love."

And then we fuck. We love and we fuck. Fast and hard with hearts and minds racing. Nothing to wait for. You grip my ass, pulling me higher onto you, into you once more, as you cant your hips up to take me just right, your long legs wrapped around me. We stare into each other's eyes, mouths gaping, panting. Then your eyes roll back, your body forms a tense arch, and you start keening your impending climax. I press myself into you, trying to keep you in that happiest of places, trying to help. But I'm struggling to focus. You've set my body alight and clouded my thoughts with a wonderfully intoxicating smoke. I'm so close.

Then you go careening over the edge, screaming my name, and taking me with you. It's the clenching of your pussy around me, your sharp, full-body shudder that finishes me. With a flick of my hips I pull my cock out of you and we both look down. For a second, we hold our breaths and just watch my hard, wet cock suspended, pulsing, above your quivering body. Then it twitches and I feel a consuming warmth surge up from the base of my balls as a river of cum shoots out of me onto your belly and breasts. I love that feeling of you watching me cum. That moment of pure pleasure, when nothing is hidden, nothing is kept back. Another twitch, another stream of cum. Again. And again. My arms begin to shake as I empty myself on you. I look into your eyes and smile and feel my cock pulse once more. Your gaze is so intense, so piercing. It penetrates me, channeling your love right into my heart.

I look down to your painted breasts. Such a delicious canvas. Our glorious tableau. But I'm not precious. Neither of us are. And you hold my head as I wriggle down you and lower my face to your chest. Then you shudder again and we both softly moan as I chase the milky trails of my cum down your breasts to your nipples with my tongue.

We taste so good together. A simple, perfect recipe.

I'm so late.

But work can wait.