The Things We Do for Lust

Ever have one of those relationships? The kind that burns so intensely you are absolutely sure one of two things will happen? Either one of you will spontaneously combust, or die of a heart attack?

Me, too. I can toss out all the clichés I can think of, “hot as Hades,” “light my fire,” “I’m burning for you,” “hotter than sin.” But none of them could ever do any justice to the response he kindles within me.

He leaves me powerless. Unable to stand, unable to think. Unable to speak. Unable to walk. Unable to do anything except what he tells me to do.

I’m not talking dom’s and sub’s here. That’s not really the kind of relationship we have. I’m just too weak to resist him. Or anything he requests. Or, okay, anything he demands-however softly it comes across- of me. However politely he may phrase it. He commands. Demands. And I obey. But I’m not his sub. Really.

When he’s away from me, that is when I really grow weak. He’ll be on a business trip and call me in-between meetings. Always the conversation begins the same.

“Are you naked?”

Of course I’m naked, that had been a direct order via email just that morning. But that was not my response. I simply, and softly, answer, “Yes.”

The rhythm of my heart skips a beat, and speeds up ever so slightly.

He tells me to get comfortable, the couch, the bed. the rug. Anywhere that I can lay down, spread my legs and touch myself since he can’t be here to fuck me himself.

Again, I can only find the strength to whisper, “Yes,” and then do what he tells me to do. All I want to do is please him. And right then the only way I can please him is by pleasuring myself.

I am entranced. I know what he does to me, although I never know exactly WHAT he will do to me. I do know how intensely my body will react. Every fibre of my being is now always keenly tuned in, awaiting the pleasure he will beckon forth. At anytime. On a moment’s notice.

We’ve known each other a while now, and if anything, these feelings grow stronger each time we are together. I rue the day we burn each other out. Until then we will just keep finding new ways to melt one another. When the feelings grow too intense I remind myself, “If you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen.” The thought of not cooking with him calms me down enough to stop worrying and just enjoy the fires he stokes. In the strangest of places, yet.

Take for instance, the time we met for a quickie during our lunch breaks. We met at the park and ride by the thruway. I parked and locked my car and joined him in his, speeding off toward some destination unknown. Before I could even buckle up he greeted me with a deep, plunging kiss that stole my breath and left me limp in his arms.

He said not a word, but turned in his seat and shifted the car into drive, pulling off onto the highway.

“I love that skirt on you.” he complimented me. He always finds something nice to say to me.

I glanced down at the knee length black linen skirt and shrugged. “I know. It’s your favorite.”

He smiled a devilishly charming smile as he leaned over and laid his long tan fingers on the hem resting against my stocking clad thigh. I swallowed thickly in anticipation.

His covert ascent began then, as his fingers burrowed beneath the short skirt, feather floating a path upwards. Up my stockinged thigh, up over the thick elastic band of the Thigh-Hi’s I am only allowed to wear these days at his directive. Up over the soft alabaster skin of my inner thigh. He paused, his finger just a hair’s breadth from my smooth pussy lips recently groomed for today’s encounter. I felt his finger moving up, bypassing my lips, the little cavern waiting for him to explore, the little jewel of my clit already tender and aching to be caressed.

The ball of his thumb grazed over the small rectangular patch of hair resting on my mound of venus. My pussy clenched, a deep, almost tortured moan sounded in my throat. I moved my hips to give him better access, but he only chuckled and moved his hand down, drawing one finger along the inside of my thigh.

“Take off your heels and put each foot on the dashboard.”

Without hesitation, I slipped off each black pump and placed my feet slightly apart on the dashboard. My skirt gathered up around my waist, leaving my smooth pussy glistening in the sunlight.

Two of his fingers, his middle and ring finger on his right hand, swooped low to cover the succulent opening buried between my engorged lips. Slowly he pressed the tips of his fingers down, barely inserting them before pulling them out again.

I whimpered and through the veil of my lashes, studied his face for some sort of emotion. He didn’t even blink as he maneuvered through traffic.

Again, his fingers pressed downward, and the muscles and folds of my drenched pussy sucked his appendages into me. He stopped at his second knuckle and slowly pressed and prodded within me, getting used to my texture. That tender patch deep inside of me became his focus as he exerted a little more pressure. I inhaled sharply and held my breath with the sensation.

I want to come. It was building already, even before he started slowly, but firmly, pumping his fingers in and out of me.

My hips moved with a sensual rhythm, and as if in a deep trance, I closed my eyes and concentrated on the building orgasm.

Suddenly an air horn blasted over to my right and we both focused our gazes in that direction. A trucker, sitting a good 5 feet above us in his cab, sporting a grin from ear to ear gave us a thumbs-up sign. He winked at me, blows his horn once more, then moves on.

I’m mortified, but my lover just shrugged it off, pulled his fingers out of my pussy, and licked them clean just in time to turn off the exit ramp towards the hotel where he booked a room for us.

We both ended up calling our respective bosses and taking the rest of the day off. Something suddenly came up.

The things we do for lust.

Even when I don’t see him my body itches with desire. My arms ache to hold him, my legs ache to wrap around his body and pull him close into me. My pussy clenches and twitches at the thought of him. I can almost taste him. Almost smell him. Almost hear him.

Almost.

One morning we hit Denny’s after an intense night of love making. Except for being totally exhausted, worn out and sore in places that had never been sore before, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. We talked about our day, the chores that needed to be done, shopping. Should we rent a movie or go out later on? I never found out.

That’s right about the time he started. I can always tell when he’s planning something. His eyes grow dark, he licks his lips and wears this smile that barely curves his lips. I watched as he lifted his coffee cup to his mouth and gingerly took a sip of the still steaming brew.

“Are you wearing any panties?” He said this in a low voice, studying the complimentary Sunday paper he retrieved from the counter as we walked in.

“What?” I nearly spilled my cup of coffee as I set it sloppily back down on the saucer, shaken by his unexpected request.

“You heard me.”

“My panties?” I whispered in a croaked voice.

He nodded, eyes boring into mine, as if peering into my soul.

I nodded also, and as I did I remembered his last order: “No panties next time we go to a restaurant.”

I shook my head slowly.

“You disobeyed me.”

“No. I didn’t mean to, I forgot.” I leaned forward and reached for his hand as I whispered in an urgent voice. “Besides... it’s SUNDAY. I couldn’t go pantiless on Sunday?”

He said nothing, just studied my face over the paper. I thought I saw amusement shine brightly in his eyes, but as quickly as it fluttered there, it disappeared. Instead I saw determination. An unyielding strength and determination. “Take them off.”

“Now?”

“Don’t question me. Just do it.”

“Alright. I’ll be right back.” I stood up to go to the ladies room, but he tugged at my wrist.

“No, you don’t. Take them off. Now. Here.”

I looked around at the crowded dining area, then back at him. He wasn’t smiling. I looked at all the families gathered there to eat an after Church breakfast, then back at him. Then at the grandparents, the children. I glanced his way. Still, he wasn’t smiling. He was serious. One more glance around the room made me take notice of the moms and the dads tending to their children.

“You can’t be serious.” My face displayed the shock that reverberated through my body.

“Again, you question me?” Calmly one eye brow raised in disbelief.

“But-”

“Off.”

“But....” I looked around.

“Now. Or we leave. And trust me if I leave before I get my breakfast you’ll soon be as unhappy as I am.”

This wasn’t fun anymore. And wasn’t it supposed to be fun? I battled within, knowing I could not do what he asked. Yet, I didn’t want to displease him. I studied his hand as it lay iron like clasped about my wrist.

“Hey.”

I looked up and finally, I saw it in his eyes. I saw it in the slight grin playing on his lips. There, he was smiling softly at me. “Stop worrying so much.”

Relief flooded through me and I nodded. He wasn’t angry.

“Better?”

I nodded again, unable to speak.

“Okay. Then go to the bathroom and take off your panties.”

My crotch flooded with warmth and I nodded, standing up and excusing myself. I saw the waitress coming our way to take our orders and I hesitated only brief second. I knew he would take care of that as well. He is so good at taking care of things.

By the time I got to the restroom, slipped out of my panties and hose, stuffed them in my purse and walked back to our table a trickle of pussy juice had started flooding my upper thighs. It ran in tiny rivulets downward, tickling the soft skin of my inner thighs.

When I got to our table I saw he had moved. He no longer sat across from me in the booth, but now sat on the same side I had been sitting at prior to leaving. I moved to get in on the other side, but he quickly stood up and ushered me into my original seat. As he proceeded to sit down next to me I noticed he had placed two open napkins on the cold red leather bench seat where my butt would be resting. I smiled at his thoughtfulness. He turned his body so I was effectively blocked from the rest of the dining area.

“That wasn’t so hard was it? Not as hard as I am for you, anyway.” He took my hand and laid it on the growing bulge between his legs. His sexy voice sounded deep and soft in my ear. “I want to fuck you.”

“I know.” I said in a squeaky voice.

He took my napkin and opened it completely before placing it in my lap. Then he slipped his hand between my thighs. I moaned softly as his fingers found my lips and traced their line parting them in search of for my juicy wet opening. “Shhhh,” he whispered, giving me a menu to hold.

I opened it unseeing. He pointed to something but I couldn’t make out the words. They may have well been French. His finger moved upward, drawing some of the moistness with it, until coming to the hard, thick little nub of my clit.

“Ohh.” I called out a bit too loudly, and he laughed. “Yes. Number Eight does look good doesn’t it.” He said this aloud, maybe so the people behind us wouldn’t be suspicious. I don’t know. I didn’t care. I just needed him to fuck me.

But he didn’t. He removed his fingers, wiped them on his napkin as he spoke to me, “I’d much rather eat you for breakfast. Sunny side Up eggs just won’t do it for me.”

I nodded, my breasts moving rapidly up and down with every tortured breath. “Can we go?”

He laughed again. “Of course not. Look, here comes our food now.”

The waitress was eyeing us with a funny expression, but of course she couldn’t say a thing. I kept my head bent and murmured “thank you,” quietly as she placed my breakfast before me.

I only picked at my eggs while he heartily consumed his entire meal. “You’d better eat- you’ll need to keep up your strength.” Another brilliant smile and he stabbed a piece of bacon with his fork and held it to my lips. We locked gazes as I nibbled at his offering.

He ate with his right hand while his left hand lay in my lap, beneath the napkin, beneath my dress. All the while he softly stroked my inner thigh. Sometimes his finger would trail all the way down to my knee. Sometimes it would trail all the way up, teasing me as it searched for but never actually found my pussy. I was a constant, trembling mess the entire meal.

At one point he parted my legs, and I succumbed, spreading them ever so slightly. He had just gulped down the last of his orange juice, pushed away his plate and announced “Time for dessert.” With that he slid his hand between my thighs and pressed a finger down between the line of my pussy lips, resting on my clit. He pressed his finger, then eased up, then pressed, then eased up, circling it and massaging it knowingly. Just as I was about to come, his hand stilled, but he didn’t remove it. Not even when the waitress came and asked if we needed anything else. What a site I must have made! My head was back, my lips parted and my eyes were half closed. I needed to come. She followed the line of my lover’s arm down until it disappeared beneath the table in front of me.

“No. I think we’re doing just fine. The check will be all. Thank you.” He effectively dismissed her while he continued to play with my pussy, pinching my lips together, squeezing my clit, until I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Please stop. I’m going to come,” I begged in a tortured whisper.

“Good.” He smiled at me with tenderness lighting his eyes. lighting my whole body. “Let’s go.”

I looked at him, flushed from head to toe, and whispered, “I need your cock. Please take me home and fuck me.”

“I’ll do better than that. Come on.” He regained the use of his hand, wiped it on the napkins and stood to leave. Then, as we passed our waitress by the front register he handed her the check and $20, directing her to keep the change.

I practically ran to the car. All I wanted to do was get home, strip and fuck.

But, no. He had other ideas. He drove away from the house, towards the hills, heading north, and didn’t stop until he came to the lookout that offered a view of the valley and the down town area. I turned to kiss him, but all I got was the door shutting in my face. He then came around to my side, and opened my door, offering me his hand.

“What in the world?” I asked as he pulled me from the car. “I thought we were going to--”

“You were so good in the restaurant that I wanted to reward you.”

“Reward me? Then let’s go home.”

“Nah. Here.” He pulled me close to his body and ran his hands down my shoulders, over the small of my back, over my ass, and pulled me hard into him. I felt his cock stiff and protruding into my belly.

“Here?” I looked at the stream of cars driving by on the highway only a couple of hundred feet away.

“Here.” He leaned down and kissed me soundly on the lips, his tongue fucking my mouth like his cock would soon be fucking my pussy. I responded and mewed softly under his onslaught.

He was ravishing me. Just like I’d read about in all those romance novels.

His hands came up to squeeze my breasts through my blouse. They ached. They ached so badly in need of fondling, licking, sucking. Biting. I groaned loudly and rubbed up against him, bringing my knee up in-between his thighs, to press hard against his cock. My hands came down between us, finding his belt buckle, and I fumbled as he continued to kiss me, although now he had moved lower and was concentrating on my neck, my throat, my shoulders, my breasts. I felt cool air and I looked down to find he had unbuttoned my blouse and lifted it off my shoulders and pulled it down to my bent elbows. He gnawed at one of my hardened nipples through the thin, sheer black lace of my bra.

I cried out his name. It echoed in the country side.

He moved me about five steps from the car, to stand beside the guard rail of the lookout. “Stay here.” He said this as he walked back to his car. He pulled from the back seat his long black coat, slipped into it as he walked back to my side.

“Bend over.”

I nearly swooned as I turned and bent over the railing. Here it comes, I thought with a shiver of anticipation.

I was right. While I bent over he unfastened his pants. I heard him slowly draw the zipper downward, the normally faint sound echoing loudly around us. The next thing I knew he pushed my dress up around my waist, the material bunched in his fist as he rested it against the small of my back.

In one swift move I felt his cock prod and then gently push its way between my legs. I spread my legs a bit wider and in one gliding swoop he penetrated me with his thick, hard cock. As I felt his cock fill me up, his arms and coat came around me like a cocoon, shielding my nearly naked body from any passers-by.

His cock felt like a bolt of velvet wrapped tight and hard, slipping silkily between the folds and into the tight but slick depths of my pussy. I shuddered in reaction to his invasion, as he burrowed deeper and deeper. When his body was flush against mine, when his balls lay nestled against my lips, when the thickness of the head of his cock pressed upon the opening of my womb, he began moving ever so slightly back and forth. Rocking, swaying, not removing himself from my clutch, yet unable to move into me any further.

I rocked with him. And then I rocked against him. We pulled apart and pushed together slowly at first. After a few moments we increased our rhythm and started slapping together in earnest. The tempo quickened even more and then suddenly we were fucking. Raw and primitive, anxious and fevered, ball-slapping, juice-slushing fucking. I felt my orgasm build with his every thrust. The walls of my pussy tightened and contracted, squeezing his orgasm from his straining, throbbing cock, milking his load from his tightened, near to bursting balls.

He shot his come deep inside of me and the sensation of it spurting through me and coating thickly the inside of my womb rocked me to my core. I screamed out his name as he grunted out my own. The sound of our lust echoed against the hills of the valley spread far and wide before us.

We stood together, enwrapped within the black wings of his coat, his cock embedded deep inside of me. His arms enveloping me. His voice whispering soft words of nothing and everything in my ear.

Oh, yes. The things we do for lust.