Shutting the door behind him, I couldn’t believe what I’d just done. Normally, I’m not at all forward with men, I much prefer to let men do the chasing, thank you. But this fireman! He was so handsome, so primal. I could still taste myself on my lips from licking my juices off his rugged face. My pussy ached, wanting more, even as I felt the rush of satisfaction that comes from an exquisite, slow licking. My knees grew weak at the memory of the look on his face as he gazed at me, his tongue gliding between my lips.
I blushed furiously at the thought of how I invited him in. Oh, please!, I thought with a wry grin, how obvious could I have been, asking him to check out the smoke in my apartment from a ground-floor burned popcorn bag! Well, no matter, I said to myself, he certainly seemed to enjoy it….As I remembered the way his mouth felt on my pussy, the way his tongue played with expertise on my clit, playing it like a mandolin, I found myself pinching my nipples distractedly, eyes half-closed, replaying the way his body, in all that gear, could still glide towards me with such ease. My hands wandered, straying down to my belly, rubbing my hipbones, then to where my pubic hair would be if I had any.
The night air carried a welcome breeze that chased the stifling heat, and with came a returned rush of desire for my fireman. I moved my hands lower, cupping my pussy, feeling the lips swell and throb. Leaning still against the wall by the front door, I parted my pussy lips, feeling how wet I was, still, from his tongue and my own libidinousness. I want him, I thought hungrily, and I want all of him. I wondered, as I rubbed my clit again, what he would be like, what he looked like without all that gear, what his lovemaking would be like.
I wanted it hard, fast, furious, I realized, wanted to feel him hard and pounding inside me, no pretense, no words beyond the guttural groans that accompany truly good fucking. As if on cue, the phone rang, making me jump. I was edgy and needed a good release, I knew. Picking up the receiver, I knew it would be him, knew he needed to be with me as much as I needed to be with him. His voice was a husky purr in my ear, making me shiver, knowing what we both wanted. All he said was that he’d be leaving in an hour, and my reply was just as to the point, telling him I’d pick him up at the station.
I went to the bedroom in a fog of anticipation, running my fingers through thick hair that takes too long to dry. With a wicked grin, I pulled one piece of lingerie after another out of the drawer, hmmm, what color, what type, I wondered, tossing each expensive piece on the bed. Ahhh, I chuckled, letting my robe slide to the floor, and began to get ready.
I put on a calf-length light jacket, tying it at the waist before I left, locking the door and wondering what I’d be thinking about when I put the key in later to let myself in. My heels clicking down the flights of stairs, I again ruffled my damp hair, pushing it out of my eyes impatiently. Starting my car, I slipped in a CD and headed for the station house. A few minutes later, it loomed ahead, a tall, brick building, bay doors open to let the breeze in. I pulled up silently before the smaller main doors, windows down, CD playing, and got out of the car, shutting the door softly, and sat on the hood, feeling deliciously sensuous.
