I want him so badly, I want him at all times. If I could fuck him a thousand times a day, it wouldn't be enough. I can't get enough of him. I can't get enough of running my fingers through his chest hair and kissing his neck. I can't get enough of the feeling of him teasing me by gently brushing his fingers along my back, or kissing and licking my nipples, or softly rubbing against my pussy- always ready and begging for him.
Our relationship hasn't been long. We haven't spent every waking moment together for years. We have seen each other a few times a week for just months- two months. When I first saw him, it wasn't an epitomic moment where my stomach turned to butterflies and I knew he was the one. We "hit it off," if you will, but it we didn't have an immediate, explosive chemistry. But somehow, it just felt right. Our first kiss was the most perfect that I could ever imagine. It happened on our first date, quickly- like everything else in our relationship. We were smoking hookah and just enjoying one another's company. Over time, we drifted closer together, we cuddled close to one another, and then, unexpectedly enough, he asked to kiss me. Of course I granted him this request, and that was when the butterflies began. Our sexual chemistry made its debut in a big way. The moment his lips touched mine, I felt my independent, rational self begin to melt away and my romantic self emerge in its place. I leaned into his kiss; I wanted to feel his body. It had been so long since I had felt the body of another, yet this wasn't even the reason for my longing. He was just amazing, in so many ways. He was unlike anyone I had ever known, his kiss was unlike anything I've ever felt.
We continued to cuddle and kiss for hours. We closed the café down, and I still couldn't get enough. In the midst of all of this passion, he asked me to be his. I couldn't have turned him down if my life depended on it. He was just so perfect for me. An engineering student at a prestigious school, an intelligent and incredibly articulate thinker, and of course, there was the physical attraction. So, at 1 o'clock AM on a weekday, I left with a new boyfriend on my arm and a new passion in my heart. He walked me to my building and he kissed me again. I never wanted to let him go. If I could have held onto that kiss for the rest of my life, in the middle of my freshman dormitory's lobby, I would have. My knees were weak, my body entirely unsteady. I felt as if I had just found what I had been waiting for my entire life.
It was the next day that I saw him. It was a Tuesday, and we spent it cuddling in my bed watching Barack Obama address the nation. With him next to me, I could barely keep my mind on the president that I so adamantly supported for years. All I kept thinking was how badly I wanted what was under his clothes, how badly I wanted his flesh against mine. I couldn't resist him; I couldn't keep my hands off of him. With my roommate less than 6 feet away, we threw modesty away and began to touch one another. He caressed my breasts and it was unlike anything I ever felt. As he gently played with and tugged on my nipples, I entirely lost all of my inhibitions. All I could think about was how good his lips felt on me, how badly I wanted his hands to travel further down my body, and inevitably, how badly I wanted what was in his pants. I started to tease him, unsure of whether or not he wanted me to go further. I lifted his shirt and ran my fingers across his stomach, shyly reaching beneath his belt, inside of his boxers. I wanted so badly to pull him close to me, to tear off all of his clothes and kiss and lick every inch of his body. If my roommate wasn't there, I would have. There is not a doubt in my mind.
I tried, in vain, to keep his hands from exploring my body any further beyond my chest and stomach. It wasn't his persistence that caused me to give up the fight, it was my longing for him. I pulled a blanket around us to shelter us from my roommate's occasional glare, but at the point I wasn't even worried about what she thought. All I knew was that I wanted my new lover to experience everything that I could give him. As he unbuttoned my jeans, my body began to ache for him. I was so wet and my pussy was throbbing for him. As he ran his fingers over my underwear, occasionally tracing where it stopped and my skin began, I began to breathe more deeply. I had been craving a touch like his for so long. The way he knew how much teasing was just enough, the way he knew exactly where to touch and the pressure to apply- it was incredible. This confirmed my belief that he was absolutely perfect for me. Eventually, his fingers found their way inside of my underwear, inside of me. We were both fully clothed, but it didn't matter. When he'd push his fingers inside me, I had to give everything I had not to moan and alert everyone around to what exactly we were doing.