Handsfree

She didn't know whether it was the waiting beforehand, or the way it was playing out - but she knew that she'd be wet instantly anytime she thought of this little session, for days if not years.

They'd been trying to get some time alone for what seemed like ages, but other things kept interfering. One of them always had to leave in ten minutes. The damn phone always rang. There always was someone around to whom you couldn't just say, "pardon us, but we simply must go fuck." There was enough time to promise, but never enough to fulfill.

When the last welcome-but-not-right-now visitor left, they looked at each other and wordlessly kissed. It didn't take long for the kiss to work its way up from "so glad to see you" to "why are you wearing so many clothes?"

There was a murmured suggestion, and an evil little chuckle in reply. Suddenly, both were running around the place like crazy people - locking everything that would lock, muting everything that would mute, and drawing every blind that could be drawn. They both scurried from room to room, turning off distractions for what felt like forever. Coming around a corner, she had his shirt thrown in her face. A few laps later, she draped a discarded brassiere over his shoulder. From there, it just got frantic.

A few scampers and zippers later, they were stripped in bed at last. Skin to skin, soaking in each others touch, tongues meeting urgently. He'd landed first on the bed, and she'd draped herself across his torso, to feel his chest on hers. She could feel his breathing beginning to rush as she moved her kisses to his neck, then his ear. Not only did she want to taste him, she wanted to take her time with him - he'd been driving her up the wall.

He moaned softly into her ear as she nibbled his neck. It had been killing him to keep his hands off her, and he had not been shy about telling her about how he was wanting her in those few opportunities he'd had. Feeling her already-hard nipples against the hair on his chest as her lips explored him was driving him completely mad for her. He reached his hands down to her back and hip, and encouraged her to mount up - he was ready to fill her, had been for days.

She backed off him as his hands began to grope her - not yet, not this time, not after all that waiting. She grabbed one wrist, pulled his hand to a rung of the headboard, curled it around. Then the other, so his hands were occupied gripping the rungs. Leaning over him with her breasts dangling inches from his face, she explained in breathless quick sentences that she was needing a lot from him just then, and that she wanted him to hold still and be teased, and that she was absolutely going to fuck him inside out. She couldn't believe the language she was using... but just being alone with him was already past belief, after all this time.

His eyes widened as they met hers, past those tits that were so close to being his. He hadn't been sure why his hands were being moved, and certainly had been expecting something different when they'd locked doors. But some cue she'd given made him smile, and he just nodded and changed to a more comfortable grip without letting go of the headboard. He wondered what she was going to do with him next.

What should I do with him next, she wondered, having gotten more license than she knew she would need. She sat back on her haunches, suddenly soaking. Watching him laying there, expecting her best, with knees locked and penis perfectly erect. Finally hers, and everything she could want. She pondered her next move, absently stroking her breasts, watching his eyes follow her hands.

Why not take a few seconds and just be desired? She rose to her knees beside him, one hand to the headboard to steady herself. The other cupped her right breast, and tugged at its nipple. She smiled to see him react, how his knuckles whitened a bit on the headboard. Her hand trailed down her abdomen, and she slowly began to rub on her clit.

He spoke to her then, of how lovely she was, and how he'd been wanting her cunt. She drew in a quick breath as he said this to her, and two fingers of hers plunged directly inside. This was how she had fucked herself thinking of him, on all of the days that they couldn't, and she wanted to show him what he'd made her do. She told him this, breathlessly, rubbing herself, and loving the look on his face.

He really was going to keep his hands off, she realized after a moment. She needed to help him if she was going to get touched, and so she decided to move.

Facing his toes, she straddled him then, ankles tucking under his shoulders. She went down to her elbows, his cock in her face, and eased herself back, knees wide. Slowly she moved her pussy to his lips.

Fantastic, he thought, as she backed herself in. He extended his tongue as a welcome. He kissed and slurped at her loudly as she settled herself on his face. Without hands to position her, he had some troubles at first. He found her quite willing to help. Soon he was thrusting his tongue back and forth, across her stiff clit, with his lips caressing hers. His neck would complain later, but he was completely voracious about eating his girl - he'd been missing this.

She was feeling some tremors as she crouched above him, realizing how wet she'd become, and how wet she would be whenever she'd think of this day. He'd not been kidding when he spoke of his lust, and to have him at last was so good. She told him again, and told him some more, all the things she couldn't say, in all that polite company.

She stared at his cock, which was thrusting at air, in time with the thrusts of his tongue. Reached out and grabbed it, one hand at its base, as a wave of fresh pleasure ran through her. She was ready to burst, and just had to share, so she licked her hand quickly and started to stroke.

He growled when she pumped him, and thrust his head forward - tongue swirling her clittie, nose half in her crack. He wanted to please her, to hear what she'd say next, and he knew he'd not last long as she jerked him off.

Watching his cock drip was making her crazy - her hand stroked him faster as her orgasm built. She told him to soak her, to shoot his seed on her - she wanted to see it, she needed his cum.

Neither could say later who reached orgasm first, whether she backed up across his tongue before or after his spurts began. From the jizz in her hair, you'd think it was him first, but there was evidence all over her, and really, who cares... Certainly they both moaned together, and that's what they'd been after, all that time.

She collapsed down the length of his body, his softened prick still in her hand, and stiffly he took his hands from the headboard. As they lay in a sticky pile, and he rolled his neck to check for fractures, he hoped for another few hours alone, so that he could perhaps say a few things too.