I remember it clearly. It was a Friday afternoon in winter, a light dusting of snow covering the cars and roads outside my office. It was January, in that time after Christmas and New Year's when the world turns dark, and grey. All the lights and bells, the holiday cheer and relaxation of time off was behind us, and all that remained, it seemed, was a bleak sense of foreboding of the year to come.
It is in this month, then, the unofficially most depressing of all months, that we must make our own happiness, I have concluded. And, when you get an email like I did that Friday, it certainly doesn't hurt the situation.
"Just so you know," it said, "I'm at your place, and I'm naked. Oh, and I've been reading naughty stories."
I left work right then and there. Could I have waited? Perhaps, but it would have been difficult. I'm going to go so far as to say that it would have been almost impossible. We had been exchanging dirty emails and showing one another which dirty stories we were reading for nearly a week, and had in that time not had the chance to see one another. She lives about forty-five minutes away, and we are both busy with grad school and jobs.
Working for a consulting company can sometimes have its perks, but its disadvantage is that one is somewhat always "on call." On that day, I didn't care. Clients, bosses, none of it mattered once I read that email. For the better part of a week we had been agonizingly teasing one another, and masturbation was little more than a temporary relief from the constant need I could feel-and could sense in her-building inside.
My only words to my co-workers that day were vague and completely uninformative. "I have to go," I said, putting on my jacket. Strangely, no one questioned me, as they usually might. Perhaps they had just noticed me checking my personal email, and guessed at the situation. Or perhaps I spoke with such force, such authority, that no one felt inclined to argue.
Either way, I was off within minutes of reading the email, my foot trying to maintain some sort of poise while pressing the gas pedal as far down as I dared. As I drove, I thought back to the last week, to the emails sent back and forth.
"Try this one," her email on Thursday had said, followed by a web link. Of course I clicked. How could I not? It was a pirate theme, it seemed. A bit strange at first, perhaps, something that made me think of well produced porn videos, until I got to the meat of it. Our protagonist, if you can call her that, was naked and being used by several men, her pride and her virginity being taken as she succumbed to her most primal urges.
I smiled as I recalled the story, not so much at the story itself, but at the image of her reading it. I imagined her naked, slowly teasing her warm pussy as she scrolled downward, anxiously awaiting the next scene of the story that, by all sensible accounts, should offend a woman less in touch with her primordial lust and passion.
The thought of her wetness did not help my current predicament, attempting to drive cautiously home and not get a ticked or into an accident. It was a difficult task, especially as I imagined her there, in my chair, completely naked and soaking it in her wetness as she read onwards.
Hearing her voice didn't help, when I called her to let her know I was on the way. Her voice was thick, sultry, and inviting. There was a hint of a tease there too, as the told me "Come home quickly, dear. I'll be waiting, and reading." Who knew what she might be reading today, what perversion she was enjoying as I sped home.
When I finally, achingly bounded up the steps of my apartment and through the door, she was there to greet me, covered only by a silk robe hanging lazily from her body as she approached. We spoke a few words, pleasantries that served only as backdrops to our lust. We talked because we felt we should, as she pressed against me and I her, and as I felt her kiss I frankly did not care about her day. All I wanted was to feel myself inside this woman as our kiss became much more, and our bodies pressed closer.
Her moan is what did it. Her moans are loud and thick with emotion, she holds nothing back. At that, I threw off my boots and took her hand as we nearly ran to the bedroom. There, she threw off her robe, revealing her soft, beautiful body as she fell to her knees before me, unhooking my pants and pulling them downwards. She took me in her mouth with a fever I cannot even begin to describe, looking up at me as she pressed her throat to its limits.
She took nearly all of me into her mouth over and over again, pausing only to suck and lick at the head of my cock, leaving me nearly speechless with lust as I groaned at her touch. I could hear the pop of her mouth as my cock left, if ever briefly, before resuming activity. I could hear and see her wide-eyed gagging as she pushed herself to take as much of me as she could, and it made me pulse in her mouth, repeating the cycle.
It was then I noticed her nipples were not completely naked. Instead, a clamp was attached to each. This, I knew, had to be biting into the most sensitive part of her breast with every move she made. I also knew that it was driving her wild. I know she loves her nipples pinched and used, twisted and sucked. It must have been difficult, then, for her to enjoy the pressure on her nipples and fullness in her mouth without reaching down to touch herself.
Somehow, she maintained her composure for a time before finally standing and pushing me to the bed, facing upward. Wordlessly, she mounted me at a reversed angle, so that her pussy was directly over my mouth as she faced the headboard.
