In My Imagination 1

For Literotica. All rights reserved.

December 18, 2018

In My Imagination

*

It was slow, but hot.

In my imagination, he was attracted to her, despite his noblest intentions. Recently divorced, he was not one to indulge in self pity although sometimes, he did crave a woman in his arms. But recently, it's not just any woman any more. It's her and only her.

But he cannot have her. She is married, happily.

A few months ago, at an out of town business lunch, something clicked in place. Kind of like the smooth whirring of cogs in perfectly timed rotations. At one point there was only the quiet, efficient working of a new team, and the next an underlying current shifted. Suddenly, as she passed him a plate he became aware of her delicate wrists, a fine network of veins just under translucent skin. At the same time her scent wafted towards you, a mix of her and an expensive fragrance.

He made no more of it. Refused to think it. Until once again, in the soft shadows of twilight, as he boarded the flight he wondered if she might take the seat next to him. Just one day ago, it would have meant nothing more than sharing a flight with a fellow passenger or a business acquaintance. But suddenly his breath was catching in his throat as he watched her long legs fold themselves in the seat opposite. He stretched his arm along the back rest of the seat next to him and wondered what it would be like to have her lean into him.

If only he had known that she was thinking the very same thing. Wondering what it would be like to nestle into his side. Put her hand on his thigh. Nuzzle into his neck. Tilt her head upwards and put some soft kisses just under his ear. Maybe have him close his arms around her on the seat.

Suddenly she was getting up, making some polite noises about needing leg room. And changed her seat.

Back home, an hour later, they took separate cabs and went home.

And that was it. Over. Just like that. Months passed. He travels frequently, she has a life. The project failed, for its own reasons. And there was no more seeing each other.

Ah, but then. Many a poet has written lengthy sentences about unrequited feeling. Unaddressed thoughts. Unexplained responses. Unknown to each other, the little sparks in each of their minds of spluttered and took life. Quietly. Many an evening, as he poured himself a drink in front of the fireplace he wondered what it would be like to see her. Perhaps in his home, with a fire in the hearth. Perhaps travel with her again, somewhere, anywhere. He found himself recalling almost perfectly, the curve of her neck, how the necklace she wore nestled in the hollow at her collarbone. The creaminess of her skin. He would make his thoughts screech to a halt, getting all wound up at himself. For he didn't understand how or why he would recall things that he didn't realize he had been seeing. Should not have been seeing.

She would lay awake many times. Tossing and turning, wondering what it would be like... to have his hand on her waist, his lips just an inch or two away. Breath mingling, an anticipation, parting lips. Perhaps he would turn her around, stand behind her and dip his neck down to her shoulder, wanting to taste the skin just at the curve of her neck and shoulders. She would not allow herself to think of his eyes, lest there be an acknowledgement. And then, she thought, all would be lost. Oh Lord, the nights were the worst. The days would roll by in a flurry of activity, but the nights! They were long and filled with longing.

One day the call came, an offer for a new project. The same team to come together, could everyone meet to hash things out? And so it started again, schedules arranging themselves for many meetings, brief takings and presentations. Visits to site were handled with particular attention to participants, so that they would never be alone. It didn't last , though. Inevitably the road drive came, as the project advanced, site visits became frequent and one fine day the flight was not available. The meticulous avoidance had only served to make her more aware of him. And he, in turn, couldn't help but notice her aloofness. He felt both miffed and relieved because she was, after all, not his for the taking.

They drove through the countryside in her sports car. Her driving style was different from other lady drivers. She sat with her legs apart, one knee bent to almost touch the gear stick and an elbow leaning on the leg. Relaxed, one hand on the wheel while the other rested on the gear or her thigh. He sat in the passenger seat trying not to think about the long, denim clad legs easing the car through the winding road. Or about how thoroughly turned on he was getting by just the way she drove. She, in turn, wasn't half as relaxed as she appeared to be. Her eyes were on the road and she was concentrating well enough but at the same time she was conscious of him squirming in his seat, shifting from one side to the other. Pulling the visor down and then putting it back. Or opening his folder and closing it without reading.

"Jesus, pull over, Dee." He said. "What... why?" She thought. "This is hardly the place to pull over and in this country, you can't just pull over". But she did , thinking he might be feeling sick or something. She eased the car along the road shoulder and turned towards him. He reached out and took her face in his hands, jut like that - dipping to touch her lips with his. Breathing gently, saying he couldn't help himself anymore. He couldn't take it any more, "I just have to do this.... "

It felt like fire. A sudden leaping of flames that started deep in her belly and threatened to obliterate everything. His lips felt gentle but insistent. Exploring, turning her head, slightly and tilting his own, he kissed her. She couldn't resist. "Oh lord, help me," she heard her own voice In her head. She allowed the feeling, finally, after so many months of refusal. She just allowed the touching of their lips. And then. Her lips parted as he teased them apart. She let her tongue explore, slowly responding to his insistence and reaching out to meet his. And that was that. A sudden conflagration, a sharp intake of breath and he was falling, falling deep into an abyss where all there was was her soft, hot, wet mouth. Open and responding to him - her fingers were on the back of his neck, her body straining towards him. He kept on kissing her, coming up for air but finding her jawline instead, heading to her ear-line. Feeling her, within his mouth, inhaling her in deep breaths. Until suddenly she was pulling back. Her breath coming short, her chest heaving, a pulse fluttering madly at her neck. He could hardly hear through the roaring in his ears. "We mustn't," she said... "What were you thinking? What was I doing?" She asked herself.

He turned and exploded out of the car, composing himself. Trying to will his swelling need down. He knew he couldn't have her, she was right. But they were drawn to each other like magnets, there was no denying it. "We should talk," he said to the cool air around him. Turning to look at her, sitting in the drivers seat, beautifully flushed but distant. Unavailable.

Just a kiss. She told herself, nothing more.

Despite being an African city, straddling both first world amenities and a poor nations hardships, it's still a village. Everyone knows everyone or knows someone who knows someone who would ultimately lead back to them. Shame and reprisal aside, she never would have an affair, it was against every bone in her body. Neither would he. But he was pragmatic enough to realize the depth of his attraction. He would not, could not be without her. At the very least, he would not be without having had her at least once even if it was just to be in her presence.

They left. Talking seemed superfluous.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, as she faced him later that evening. He looked shower fresh, a faint scent enveloping her in his air. Her eyes trailed to the dark hair at the V of his shirt, broad shoulders straining against the seams of his shirt. Oh god, he knows. She turned away, her legs turning to jello. The thing was ... her reaction was simply fanning his already hard arousal. He reached for her, his hand settling on her waist, his thumb finding the soft skin at her waist. He turned her towards him, bending to kiss her again, but finding her cheek instead, pulling her closer until she could feel his arousal. She looked up, finding his mouth with hers and he lost all rhyme or reason. His hands explored the curves of her hips, finding their way around her waist, down the curve of her buttocks and in between. Kneading her ass, exploring, pushing her closer to him. Her arms wound around his neck, her breasts pushing up against him. She needed to feel that chest, needed to touch him, rip away every piece of cloth that separated them. Her fingers started unbuttoning, fluid and gentle. He had not realized that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. Her desire fanned his, even as he felt her fingers making their way down his shirt, he knew he had to stop otherwise he could come, right there. So strong was his hard-on.

"Come with me," he said. "Just one week. Dubai. No questions, no expectations. I want to... I want to wake up with you, fall asleep with you, have meals with you. Not this way, not like horny teenagers." "There is nothing teenage about the way I feel", she thought ruefully, trying to calm her breathing. A rustling along the path alerted them to the approach of the housekeeping staff. And the moment was gone. Just like that.

She did go. Despite her best intentions. But not with him, not expecting to even see him. She went for the sourcing trip as originally scheduled, taking elaborate care to ensure that her dates did not match his. But now, he knew it was useless, her avoiding him. Their love making was meant to be. It was just a matter of time. And he was not going to push her. It was too beautiful, what they had and he did not want to ruin it by turning it into a chase or by being a lustful turd. Unknown to him, it had the effect he did not even expect. She couldn't stop thinking of him, imagining being around him. She imagined sharing his space, imagined having breakfast after a long night of sex. She thought she would reach just under his chin if she stood close to him. That she could imagine his hands exploring her - feeling her up, she would arch her back thrusting upward to meet him. That she would kiss every inch of his neck, her hands finding his manhood ... Until she went entirely crazy by the time she got back.

And it did come, one fine day, on their own in a vacant house that was part of the work. He said nothing - she did not remember anything except that one moment they were at the doorway and the next he was pressing her against the rail of the steps leading up to the door. Kissing her deeply, oh lord, that kiss! Their kisses were the catalysts. Passionate, dee, perfect kisses that aroused both of them unbelievably. Not this time, it wasn't going to stop there. She balanced on the rail, her legs wrapping round his waist, rubbing against him, her head bending to kiss him with complete abandon. Her fingers running through his hair, even as her own hair fell in glorious waves around them. She was wearing a thong, to avoid panty lines and found the fabric rubbing between her ass cheeks and labia. He realized that as he cupped her behind, steadying her and finding soft buttock completely free. Just the thought of this made him pull her waistband down and reach in to find soft, silky smooth and firm buttocks. Not here, she panted, heavily. They practically fell through the front door and into the nearly ready living room. He sat her on the couch and kneeling in front of her, lifting up her hips, removed her pants with one smooth motion, revealing a silky black thong. No wonder, he thought, I couldn't see... and it feels amazing he thought , rubbing his fingers along her labia, massaging her clit, rewarded by the moisture and warmth seeping through.

She watched him, hardly able to control her need. Her hips bucked, almost of their own volition, and he slid upwards to kiss her again, his hand finding its way under her top and kneading the soft flesh os her stomach. Exploring, moving upwards, finding her breast with gentle fingers wondering how she would like to be touched. Gently? Roughly? The thing was, he wanted to be gentle first. His thumb caressed just that soft flesh below each breast. It was so very soft, the breast curving upwards to large pink areoles which were hardening to tiny little nubs as he pulled the sweater over her head. He stood up then, unbuttoned his shirt, stripped off the rest of his clothes and finally she felt his chest against hers. But not for long, he trailed little nips and kisses from her collarbone, around each nipple and down to her belly button. Where he couldn't help but bury his face in the soft flesh and the intoxicating scent that was so her.

She, however, was suddenly, paralyzed. Locked. Unable to move , everything that he was doing to her made her feel like a teenager again. Totally mowed over by the way her body was responding, dazed even. She wanted to return the feelings he was arousing in her, but couldn't. Her hands rested on his cheeks, then his nape, chest - sliding over his shoulders and down his back but apart from that she couldn't do more. She held onto him, suddenly overwhelmed, wanting him and yet, wanting to press a pause button so that she could savor every moment. Instead, she cupped his cheek and urged him up onto the couch. He covered her body with his, reaching in between to the softest, moist throbbing part of her that wanted him. He trailed soft kisses from her navel down - she couldn't bear it and almost begged him to simply take her. Enough of the foreplay.

He did, his swollen member, turgid and glistening with pre-cum. She took hold of it, massaging it in a way that he, in turn, could not bear. She guided him in... looking into his eyes all the while ... murmuring about how many times she had imagined him, like this. Filling her up, reaching deep inside into places she never though he would reach. Her hips bucked upwards, to meet each of his thrusts with one of her own until she couldn't bear it anymore and came with a moan that pushed him over the edge. She still found enough presence of mind for one last thing, clenching her vaginal muscles around him just as he came. It was mind blowing and pushed him into a whirling chasm where there was only the sensation of losing all sensation.

And then utter silence. A beautiful silence as a quiet rain began to fall, and the rhythm of their breathing inter-wove through the falling raindrops.

~ End ~