Hungry Eyes

I sit in this coffee shop eating breakfast alone, and I think of another coffee shop, yesterday, 500 miles away. It was no big deal, really, just a small favor for a casual friend. As an English major, I am often asked to help out with my friends' writing. I sat there, tapping on your laptop, pretending it was actually holding my attention. I changed a word here and there, corrected a few minor errors, smiled as we chatted, but my mind wasn't really on the conversation or your essays.

As you talked, my eyes wandered. I thought about how the dark 2-day stubble on your chin would feel against my skin. I could imagine it turning my neck tender and pink while your tongue found that sensitive spot just below my jawline, and a shiver traced down my spine. You smiled and I could almost feel your mouth on my nipples, your teeth nipping at my flesh. I thought of your beard scraping down my body as your mouth moved lower.

I looked into your dark brown eyes as you spoke and lost track of what you were saying. You were tired, eyes drooping, and I wondered how you would look if they were heavy-lidded with desire instead of exhaustion. I wanted to touch you and find out. My eyes wandered down across your white T-shirt and my breath caught. I could see those shoulders rising up over me, smell soap and sweat, hear your labored breathing. I looked up quickly, hoping you couldn't read my thoughts on my face. Did I catch you looking at my breasts or was that just wishful thinking? By then I was getting wet, and I let myself fantasize for just a few minutes.

You shoved me down onto my big four-poster, ripping my shirt over my head and yanking my bra down, frantic to touch and taste. My arms were imprisoned by the straps, and I squirmed, trying to loosen them, until you pushed my hands aside. "Be still." In reality we were surrounded by the smell of coffee and grease, the clatter of conversation and pots, but in my mind you were shoving my skirt up with one hand and lowering your zipper with the other. Yes, I thought, that's exactly how I want it the first time -- hot and hard and fast -- no time or patience to even undress.

You pushed in to me for the first time, and I had to bite back a moan even as I smiled my thanks to the waitress refilling our drinks. Damn, I was so turned on, I could almost feel you filling me. I hoped you couldn't see my nipples. They were hard and so tight it nearly hurt. I wanted so badly to feel you touch them.

Even while we were swapping family stories, I was hearing your voice low and rough, thick with passion. I could hear your groan as you buried yourself in me and my own answering sighs. I wanted to hear you say my name. I wanted to whisper yours, beg you for my release. I wanted to feel you thrusting in and out of me, feel your hands gripping my thighs and hips. You smirked at whatever we were talking about and I wondered how your face would look as you came inside of me. I wanted to feel your weight as you collapsed on top of me, your breath rasping in my ear, to savor the stillness that comes in those moments after great sex.

A pot clattered in a metal sink and my fantasy shattered. I wondered if you noticed anything as we chatted on the way out to our separate vehicles. Could you tell I how much I wanted you? Did you have any idea how wet I was? I got in the car and turned the air conditioner on, trying to cool down. I might as well not have bothered.

Even though you weren't in front of me anymore, I couldn't get you out of my mind. I wondered what it would be like to wake up to you. Long, slow, lazy morning sex. My mind drifted back to my four-poster.

I had watched you drift off to sleep after we slowed down enough to finish undressing, then closed my own eyes to rest. My body was sore and I knew there would be bruises on my thighs. I came awake gradually. We were lying spooned, my back against your chest. I felt your hands wandering over my body. You cupped my breast in your hand, then squeezed gently. I sighed and shifted a little, feeling your erection pressing in to my back. You moved my leg up and back over your own and stroked the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. I moved my hips, an invitation, and felt your smile against my shoulder. You slipped into me from behind, moving slowly, one hand kneading my breast. I felt your beard scrape against my shoulder, then your teeth nipping at my neck. I moaned your name and you moved just a tiny bit faster. Your hand left my breast and moved lower, rubbing my clit. I whimpered and you rubbed faster, moved faster within me. My body tightened as I came, and I heard your breath catch. You rolled with me until I was on my stomach with you pressed tight against my back, still inside of me. It took only a few powerful thrusts and you came inside of me, then fell heavily down beside me.

The stop sign coming up brought my mind back to the road. I turned the A/C up higher and took a few deep breaths, preparing to act normally when I went in to my family.

I still ache.