In the Itchen

I lean against the wall, wine glass in one hand, as you talk about your day. Your movements are fluid as you peel and chop and taste. You pick up a small knife with a sharp serrated edge, swallow a mouthful of wine, then reach for a pepper and start slicing. The pepper is bright yellow - the colour that children pick to draw the sun - except for a blush of orange around one pouting oval end. Your fingers are quick and deft and confident as you slice, throw the seeds and the fleshy core into the bin, and scrape the mismatched golden slices into the simmering pan. Beside the stove is a large wooden pepper grinder, the wood pale and smooth, the grain following its subtle sensuous curves You pick it up and grind pepper into the spaghetti sauce you're building, then continue holding it as you talk, your strong fingers running absently along its grooves.

I put my wine down and walk to you, take the grinder from you and run my hands up your neck to the soft hair that curls onto your collar. Pull you towards me. You kiss me, so softly at first that it's like imagination, then harder as my breath quickens. Your lips are sure and certain and warm and it feels completely right.

Your emails have been exciting me all day, the passion of what you couldn't say making me tremble and my nipples harden to flushed excited peaks beneath my soft cotton shirt. Ever time the new mail icon appeared on my screen this afternoon, my heart thudded and my cheeks burned. Every time I met your eyes across our desk in the crowded office, the intensity of your gaze and the passion in them sent a shock through me, making me crave your touch.

I whisper this to you as you turn off the stove, as you undo the buttons on my skirt and shirt with exquisite slowness. As you unhook my bra and let my heavy breasts fall into your hands, as you slide my damp knickers down my legs, I tell you that for most of the afternoon, I've been aroused enough that you could have slipped effortlessly into me. That your cock inside me and your gentle stroking would have sent me into a hot clenching orgasm around you. You kiss me again when I tell you that, your tongue against my lips, inside my mouth, touching mine, curling and stroking and licking me into a moment where I'm all feeling and there's no conscious thought.

Eventually I'm naked in front of you, apart from my stockings and heels, while you're still fully clothed, your sleeves rolled up and the crisp curl of hair that's visible in the cutaway neck of your T-shirt making me want to taste you. I lean forward half an inch and delicately lick the place where the soft skin of your neck meets your smooth white collarbone. You taste of salt and spices and that warm sweetness that's uniquely you. You take a harsh deep breath and I do it again, then move my mouth to your ear. My breath tickles your skin as I whisper about the ache between my thighs that's been building all day. I nibble your earlobe, making you moan - and suddenly you push me away, take control. You hold me at arms' length, your fingers around my narrow wrists, and look me up and down, your gaze burning me until my skin is crawling with electricity. I bite my lip, the dull pain a welcome focus for my heightened senses.

You drop my wrists, and I take that as a signal to move towards you. I reach for you with trembling fingers and lift your T-shirt to reveal your long lean torso. Your flat smooth stomach. The line of hair running from between your ribs to your chest. Your erect brown nipples. You lift your arms and I tug your shirt over your head. You stand before me, half-exposed, and the expression in your eyes takes my breath away. We face each other, eyes locked, not touching, not speaking. I put my hand on your belt, undo your buckle and slide it from the loops on your jeans. I try to unfasten your top button but it's too stiff and I'm shaking too much. You help me slide it out of the hole, then abruptly pull at the material so that the rest of your buttons come undone in one smooth movement. You stand in front of me with your jeans open and your blue cotton boxer shorts visible. I reach around and push them over your hips and down your legs until they're around your calves and you can step out of them, kick them away.

You're finally naked, and beautiful before me. Your skin is glowing and your body is thin, long, taut. Your cock is long and swollen; half-erect, a thick throbbing vein visible. I place my hands on your waist and for the first time, I feel the thrill of your whole warm skin against mine. I lick your lips softly and you kiss me hungrily. I pull you closer, skin to skin, my soft curved stomach against your hard lean one, legs tangled. I want more. I lean forward to kiss your neck again, then bend and put my mouth on your nipple. I flick my tongue across it and feel it harden instantly. I hold your waist for balance and graze the edge with my teeth. Let you feel the sharpness and the possibility. You make an incoherent sound and tangle your fingers in my hair. I suck harder, then bite gently, and feel your cock swell against my thigh. I bury my nose in your chest hair and inhale the clean soapy smell of you, underlaid by something more recent and raw: the smell of your arousal. I move my mouth to your other nipple and without any preliminaries this time, bite again, slightly harder, as though you're delicious fruit and I'm desperately thirsty.

Sliding my hands down your hips, you thighs, I kiss and lick a path down to your cock. My lips are swollen and moist against your skin. I move slowly, teasing myself as well as you with restraint over my desire to taste you.

Eventually I crouch, legs wide apart, enjoying the feel of air against my hot sensitive skin. Imagine I'm crouched over your face, your tongue on me, your fingers inside me.

I take your cock in my right hand, extend my tongue and taste the bead of liquid that has formed at the tip. You moan again and your hands are in my hair again, pulling hard. Suddenly I can't prolong the teasing any more and I move to engulf you with my hot wet mouth. I suck and lick and taste you, rubbing your length with one hand, and gently stroking myself with the other. I'm so aroused that it's almost painful. You're breathing hard and gasping out half-formed unintelligible words and I'm loving it, loving the taste and the sounds and the sight of you when I raise my eyes. Mostly your head is thrown back, your eyes closed and your mouth half-open: occasionally you look down and I feel you tremble as you watch my lips around your cock while my tongue strokes the tip. Whenever your eyes meet mine, it's like a jolt of electricity and my cunt spasms in sympathy.

As I watch you, your face changes and you move your hands to my shoulders, try to push me away. I suck harder, swirl my tongue faster and tell you with everything I have that I want you to come in my mouth. I swallow the length of you, deep and wet and hot, and place both hands on your beautiful tight arse, pull you deeper and you moan again, louder. I look up and your eyes are closed, and suddenly your cock swells and throbs and leaps and there's a spurt of delicious come, and another and another, as you grunt and cry it out. You thrust harder and harder and there's so much, it's all I can do to swallow. I drink it down, drink you down, and I fucking love it. I love your excitement, your arousal, love the fact I made you come, that I turned you on, that I did this, that you did this for me.