There's a point at which your wildest dreams meet with reality and result in really kinky, hot, wild sex. The kind of sex that makes you sore the next day. The kind that makes your legs shake and your world rock.
The sexual tension filled the space between us like a third person sitting on the couch. "Can you smell hormones?" I wondered . . . God knows, if he could then the Davidoff I had spritzed on my breasts before leaving the house was a waste of perfume. I didn't know what to do with my feet. Shoes on, shoes off. Indian style, on the coffee table, tucked under my butt. He was just as fidgety. Change the music, explain the buttons on the player, something about African rhythms. Dogs in, dogs out. The edge added by the privacy, the opportunity – the frustration of the forbidden fruit.
I had to be back by 10:00. By 8:30 I knew if I didn't make a move, we'd stare at each other and make small talk until the minutes slipped away and there was no time left for anything but hurried kisses and frantic gropes. I wanted, needed more than that. I had sent an email earlier in the day – he let me know he had read it. I close my eyes and remember what I had written – I want to strip you naked and have my way with you. A small sigh escapes me, and the chemistry is too powerful not to make this happen. It won't take much . . .
I crossed the invisible line between us and straddled his lap. A flicker of surprise crossed his face, then relief. I smile, and bend my spine for a kiss. His hands are rapid, light, fluttering under my shirt and across my back before our kiss breaks for the first time. He reaches up and cups my breasts through my bra, squeezing my nipples lightly. Soon there will be no turning back. I think briefly about pulling away, putting the brakes on here before things get totally out of hand. Bullshit. I want them out of hand. I want his hands all over me.
"What do you want . . .?" I shift off his lap and pull him over me. On top of me. His hand reaches down my jeans and to my very wet, slick pussy. Unbutton the pants and release the zipper. Damn, there are way too many clothes in the way here. That connection again.
"We don't need this on, do we?" he asks, and pulls off my top. Then the bra. I lift my hips so that he can slide my jeans down off my legs, leaving me before him in nothing but little black thong panties . . . and he ravishes my breasts. Sucking the tender flesh into his mouth and biting, squeezing, "You smell so good," he tells me. His fingers find my cunt and I can't tell how many slide into me. It feels like his whole fist and I can't remember him using his hands like this ever before. I'm wet and slick and I need more and more and more of him.
He sits up and pulls off his shirt. And his pants. And his boxers. If I had any doubt about what we were going to do here it's gone now. I see his cock and immediately want it in my mouth. I twist and bend until I can reach him, but the angle's all wrong. "I can't do this properly from here . . ."
