The plane landed in the small, regional airport. It had been a long time since I had flown into such a small terminal but the extra cost and hassle would be well worth it. Our plan would no work quite as well, if it worked at all, had I flown into a larger airport. My choosing to fly into this glorified airstrip was the only thing that allowed you to pick me up and that would still offer us the opportunity of privacy.
I slung my carry-ons over my shoulder, grateful, once again, that I had chosen not to check a bag. I took the short walk down what passed for the terminal and was rewarded by my first sight of you in many, long months. You were wearing a cute, plaid skirt and black, sleeveless top, strongly resembling a semi-gothic schoolgirl, eagerly awaiting what was yet to come. Your hair was longer than I remembered which was just fine with me; more for me to wrap my hands in. Your black framed sat perched on your face, so delicately adding to the wonderful portrait of you as a schoolgirl that drove me so wild.
Our eyes met and we both fought the very nearly uncontrollable desire to rush over and embrace each other. Yet another of the inconveniences of arriving at this particular airport: this close to home for you, there was no telling who was watching and whether or not word would get back to him. As a result, our first embrace in months, and the first after our shared confession of the mutual desire between us, was forced to be far less passionate than either of us truly wished.
One would imagine that either one of us, or better yet both of us, would feel some guilt at what we were planning. And most would say that we should. Yet, even though I was planning on having my way with my best friend's wife, even though I planned to fill every one of her major orifices with my hot seed, even though I planned to make her beg me to fill her with my rock har manhood, I did not feel even the slightest twinge of guilt. And by the way your touch lingered and the catch in your voice as you greeted me, whispering into my ear how you could not wait until I was deep inside you, it was obvious to me that passion and desire, not guilt, were paramount in your mind as well.
As we hugged, as platonically as we were able, the words whispered to each other only served to inflame our hunger for each other all the more. All too soon, we broke our embrace and headed out to your car. Heedless of what I had packed, I tossed my bags into your trunk; my mind was clouded over in a haze of desire and hunger. As we climbed in, you allowed your skirt to ride up, revealing most of your leg, quite deliberately I was sure.
We quickly drove off, leaving the airport behind us in the rear view mirror and driving to my hotel as quickly as we could without getting arrested. My eyes kept being drawn to your beautiful legs, my hands twitching as I controlled the urge to touch you, to run my fingers up your skirt. By the impish smile that slowly crept across your face, it was obvious that you were fully aware of the effect you were having on me.
I was nearly to the breaking point, nearly ready to give in to my urges, of reaching out for you, when you turned into the hotel parking lot and stopped in front of the lobby. I stifled a groan and climbed out of the car, having to adjust the front of my jeans to be more comfortable before I could walk any distance. At the sight of that, you bit your lower lip in anticipation. Having made myself as comfortable as possible which, short of full nudity, was not very, I entered the lobby and checked in, which took only a few minutes but felt oh so much longer.
Within minutes, we were parked in front of the room and unlocking the door. As soon as the door clicked shut behind us, locking out the rest of the world, I grabbed you and all but slammed you against the door as our lips met for the very first time ever. Your hands wrapped into my long hair, pulling me ever tighter into our kiss, and my hand slid down, raising your skirt. As my hand slid up your skirt, softly tracing patterns up your leg, I found no cloth barrier preventing my fingers from entering your silky, hot wetness.