*CLICK*
Hold it! Slow motion, as we set the stage. That's a tradition with this sort of thing, right? A physical description of him, a physical description of her, a list of what naughty stuff they're wearing, a quick run-down of intimate secrets? Well, we're gonna skip all that. Seriously. Just know that they're both somewhere between eighteen and middle age. Other than that, use your imagination. You don't want to read about a bald fat guy fucking a hairy lady twice his size, right? Or a midget with a pot belly getting it on with some amazon chick? (well, okay, maybe you do, but that's a few forums down) So, fill in the blanks with whatever you want to see. Imagine yourself (or any other averagely attractive young man), and imagine your favorite girl right now (or any other averagely attractive young lady), and go to town. There. Got the stage set? Allright, then the movie can start...so...action!
*PING*
He'd been this nervous before. Really. Sure. Lots of times. At least, oh, five or six, in the previous twenty-five years of his life. But he had a reason for it, at least -- it wasn't every day you met someone you'd been having an Internet fling with for months, was it? No, it sure wasn't. So, sue him! He was nervous. What if she didn't like his hair? Or his smile? Or him? Or how he talked? Or what if she didn't like how he kissed in real life? Or...or...
He paced at the top of the escalator, peering down at the airport's security gates, waiting, waiting. The young man shoots another look at his watch, another look down the stairs, an exasperated glare at the clock on the wall, and then can't help but peer down the stairs again. Where was she? Her plane landed three whole minutes ago!
Sure, sure, he was impatient. And, judging from the slowly growing bulge in the front of his shorts, horny. But he had good reason to be (both!). He and Alicia had been net-humping one another almost daily for two months, and he was looking forward to finally seeing her. And touching her. And tasting her. And smelling her. And hearing her. And...and...her?
There she was! The nervousness was gone, replaced only by affection and lust. And more lust. And a little bit more. She was here, and she was as sexy as he'd thought she would be. She was finally here, accessible and real and able to be touched and hugged and a million other (more intimate) things.
He flashes a bright grin as she walks into sight, lugging her suitcase and shifting from foot to foot impatiently as she rides the escalator up from the security checkpoint. The seconds stretch out as he stands there, as she rides the agonizing slow thing against gravity itself, as he waits, as she approaches, as... sha-blam! It's hug time!
For the first time, arms circle around one another and bright grins are seen real-time, not just as naughty smiles to the occasional webcam. Bodies press against one another, hands wander a little more than they should at an airport, and then it's fast forward time.
*SWOOSH*
I mean, let's be honest. You aren't here to read about a walk across the terminals, a stroll through a parking lot, and a quick handful of ass while he holds a car door open, right? Right. So, on with the shore. Fast forward, like I said. Schwoop, ten minutes later.
*DING!*
They're in a car, on the interstate. He's grinning like a cheshire cat, and has one hand on the wheel. She's moaning like a porn star, and has one hand (one of his, that is) in her panties and between her legs. Her sun dress is flipped up, her, legs are spread wide, and his long middle finger is sliding in and out of her wetness. It was an old dare, an old bet, and one she never thought he'd taken so seriously. But, sure enough, as soon as their car hit the highway, he'd started sliding his free hand up her thigh. She wasn't about to complain, and he wasn't about to stop.
He drives this route home from work every day, so it's no trouble to keep his car on the road even as his attention is largely elsewhere. The smell of her juices fills the small car, and his nose enjoys the sensations every bit as much as his hand enjoys her warmth, her heat, her tightness. His pointer and ring fingers hold her outer lips open, his middle finger slides in and out, twists and writhes, wriggles and curls, and his palm rubs on her clit.
Her curly pubic hair tickles the inside of his wrist as he wriggles his hand down a little more, palm rocking at her clitoris, middle finger in her to the hilt. She's got one hand white-knuckle tight on the armrest's handle, and the other on his wrist, squeezing in encouragement. She wouldn't push his arm away now for the world.
She's getting closer, closer, his curled finger strokes her inner walls just right, his fingertip brushes and rubs and teases her g-spot, his palm rides her clit, his...his other hand...oh god!
