Together

We have stolen a week together. Between my writing deadlines and your work and studies, time together has been non-existent, our only communication over the phone, and we've been miserable and lonely.

I told you my plans to drive the twelve hours to you, and you were concerned. You knew I'd still not recovered from long illness, and you knew I was up most nights writing as though possessed. You told me to drive to a city a few hours from you and meet you there; we'd get a hotel for the night, then finish the drive the next day. I smiled when you said this, and agreed.

This morning I packed up the car, making sure I had everything I needed, but leaving my laptop at home; you made me promise no writing this week. A suitcase full of clothes and toiletries is joined by a large, tissue-topped paper bag, with a surprise in it for you.

The drive is good, though long; singing along to our favourite songs as I hit the toll-road, I can feel my heart lifting, feel my shoulders unknotting, feel the tension drain away.

Feel the excitement for tonight growing between my legs.

After long hours with few breaks, I am finally at the train station, heart thumping as I wait for you. Locking the car, I wander inside, waiting near the ticket booth, listening for announcements that might tell me you are here.

Hands cover my eyes, but before my fear can spike I recognise their touch, catch the scent of you in my nose, and lean back against your chest for a second.

These first moments, simply having you against me, feeling your heart beat against my back as you whisper my name in my ear, are perfect.

I turn to say hello but your mouth stops my words with a lingering kiss, and as my fingers find your cheek I know we both feel better.

Pulling apart, we smile - we have never needed words when we're together, only looks and gentle touches. You grab your bag and follow me to the car, trailing behind me so you can look all you like.

I'm a deliberate person, and I know how to tease you; even after driving several hours, I'm dressed to catch and hold your full attention, to really show off for you. Since our last time together I've changed a lot - for the better, of course. My hair is shorter, but still the same coppery chestnut you find so warm and inviting. I've dropped five dress sizes - surgery and stress can be very useful - but my curves haven't abandoned me, and your eyes travel over my swaying hips and bubble butt with more than a little appreciation. The soft, dark red of my tunic dress is a colour you love me in, enhancing my pale skin dotted with freckles. The knee high boots clinging to my black tights complete the look, and you want me intensely.

In the car, you reach for me, hands cupping and squeezing as you re-acquaint your tongue with mine. The way you moan my name against my lips sends shivers down my spine, and I'm lost in the taste of you.

We stay like this for long minutes, forgetting we're in the middle of a busy car park, as one of your hands slides along my thigh and underneath my dress. My own hand reaches down to stroke the hot bulge that's pressing against your tight grey jeans, and my teeth nibble at your lip.

A shrill wolf-whistle jolts is back to earth and we look up; standing at the door of the car parked in front of us is a middle-aged man in a suit, being glared at by his wife. We can't hear the words she seems to be spitting at him, but apparently neither can he as he grins and gives you a thumbs up. As he turns to drop his briefcase behind his seat, it's apparent that our soft-core show has had an effect. Your smile is wide, and despite my bright blushes I'm grinning a little too.

We readjust our clothes and, after our audience has departed, I start the car and begin steering us away from the city and towards our hotel. We talk lightly about your studies - I remind you again of how proud I am of you for being brave enough to go back to college after so long - and you tell me about your mother's health. The conversation is gentle and easy, as it always is when we're together, but when I take my eyes from the road for a moment to glance at you, I can see your need stirring behind the green-gold eyes I adore.

At the hotel, check in is easy; everything is paid for already, and I simply have to sign for the room. Key in hand, we head back to the car to grab my suitcase and your overnight bag. You watch, eyebrow raised in question, as you see me also grab the paper bag, and smirk when you see the label name, but say nothing; you know I won't answer questions.

Our room is spacious, the bed large and inviting - even if it is for one night, with a comfortable-looking sofa facing it. You reach for me again but I pull away; I've been driving since dawn and, although you've never cared if I'm dishevelled, I tell you I feel like a mess and need a shower; especially as we have a dinner reservation booked in a few hours time. You smile, and my request that you bring a shirt, trousers and shoes is suddenly much more reasonable. However, you aren't going to be deterred.

Pulling me against you in an iron grip, you start to slowly kiss my neck - knowing it drives me wild - and tell me that it's been so long since we've been together. That you're not going to let me make you wait. I'm helpless; all I can do as your lips burn my skin is succumb to your wishes.

Slowly you walk me backwards until my legs hit the edge of the bed, and I feel you lowering me down, still tracing aching lines of bliss up and down my neck. I start to moan, then gasp - your teeth have nipped at the point between my neck and my shoulder that is oh-so sensitive, and it feels incredible.

I ask you what you want, what I can do to make you feel good, and you shake your head. Right now, you tell me, you want to make me feel good. I know there's no point in protesting, and in truth I don't really want to.

I watch, chest heaving, as you tug off my boots, kissing down my legs as you fling them away. Next it's my tights; your fingers push my dress up around my hips and grip the waistband of black lycra, before slowly pulling down.

You breath in sharply when you see the scrap of black lace beneath that hides nothing, and your fingers softly trace over the hairless skin that is so easily accessible. Tipping my head back against the mattress, I moan your name as your fingers are joined by your lips, as you start to tease me over the lacy panties that won't be there much longer.

Without stopping, you gesture at me, and I know what you expect; sitting up slightly, I pull my dress over my head and it joins my boots and tights on the floor. Your mouth is still teasing me over fabric as your eyes glide over my skin, and I can see the appreciation in them when they rest on my luscious breasts, lifted up by more black lace.

The bra quickly follows my dress and I lay back, my fingers stroking and pinching and twisting my stiff, pale nipples as you tease. My eyes shut as I let you pleasure me slowly, and don't open when I feel you hook a finger inside the lace and pull it to one side.

I hear you murmer appreciatively as you see my soft, shaven cunt open to you for the first time in so long, and before I can do anything, your face is buried between my thighs, your tongue parting lips and snaking over my throbbing, swollen clit.

I can't stop myself from choking out your name, then again, louder, as your finger pushes its way inside of me. You moan against my cunt, loving the way my inner muscles grip around your finger, knowing how good they're going to feel around your already-needy cock. But that can wait; you've been wanting to do this to me for weeks, months, and you aren't going to stop until I've been reduced to a quivering mess.

Your finger curls a little, your tongue tracing my name over the tight nub of nerve endings as my hips buck a little. You shake your head "no" when my fingers leave my nipples to reach for you, and so they carry on, tweaking and twisting and adding to the pleasure overload.

I gasp as another finger invades; you grin, thinking about the first time you touched me and realised how tight I was - nothing has changed and it thrills you. Your fingers and tongue begin to work in tandem, stroking that spot inside me that never fails to make me cum, and you can sense I'm getting close.

You pull your mouth away, watching me as your fingers fuck me closer to an orgasm I so desperately need. Your beard is soaked in my juices, and you lick you lips, savouring the sticky sweetness you've missed for so long. You listen to me moan as you watch me writhe, and you know it would be cruel to deny me any longer.

You plunge your fingers deep inside me, lowering your mouth to suck on my throbbing clit, and you're rewarded with a hot rush of sweetness as your fingers are gripped like a vise, and you hear your name almost yelled out loud.

Your fingers and tongue stop moving, but stay where they are as my bucking hips slow and my moans become soft whimpers. As you pull away you look up, and lose yourself for a moment; my blue eyes are dark with lust, and you drown happily. You watch me wince with pleasure and a tinge of regret as you pull your fingers from me, and then slowly suck them clean.

I watch you for a minute, catching my breath and willing myself calm. I sit up on the bed and reach for you, growling softly that it's my turn, but you lean away, shaking your head and smiling. You tell me no, it's time for a shower, and push yourself to your feet, then pull me to mine.

I pout for a second, then realise that you're tugging your tee up over your head; I'm not showering alone. I walk into the bathroom, pleased to see that the walk-in shower of more than big enough for two, and turn on the hot water. I hear you call from the bedroom to me to carry on and get warm, and I moan happily as the water hits my tired body.

I reach for shower gel that smells of lavender and tea, and slowly start to soap myself up. Thick suds cling to my breasts and leave trails across my stomach, only to be rinsed away by steaming water. I hear you come in but don't turn around.

Your hands stroke down my wet spine, and as I softly mumble your name, you're struck by just how my weight I've lost. The curve of my waist is deeper, and my backside, though still round, is perkier than before. You realise that, despite pictures I've sent you - both clothed and nude - I've been hiding myself a little. You stare for a few moments, feeling your cock stiffen and swell more than it already had, and then lust takes you over.

Gripping my hips, you push my wet, slippery body against the cool tiles. I squirm, pretending to protest as my nipples are chilled. You growl softly, knowing I'm just playing at resisting, and press your thick shaft against my cheeks. I wiggle a little, and your cock slips between them, pulsing as I squeeze a little.

You rock you hips slightly, pushing yourself up and down between my cheeks, as you reach one hand around and fill it with a soapy breast. I bite my lip and try not to moan as you tease my nipple, pressed against my back and whispering to me that you're going to make me scream.

I feel your hand slide from my breast and know what's coming. Moving in sync with you, I lift my leg a little so you can grab my thigh, holding it firm against the wet tiles. Open to you like this, I can feel my cunt tighten in anticipation, aching to be filled and stretched by your thick cock.

I don't have to wait long.

With one smooth thrust, you're buried inside me as deep as you can be, moaning in my ear as my muscles grip you and hold you there. A long moment passes, neither of us moving, each of us revelling in the feeling of being together, of being whole, again.

But this is catharsis, and you pull your cock slowly from me until only the tip of you is left inside me. I bite my lip again, and brace myself against the wall; a wise decision, as I feel you force yourself back inside with a need that is palpable.

The hot water beats down on us both as you fuck me, taking back what is yours after missing it for so long. I'm sweetly aching as your cock stretches me, as it fills me, pushing deeper and deeper into me until I can feel your swollen, full balls pressed against me.

Reaching back, I grab at your hip, digging my nails into you as I pull you tighter against me. You moan out loud at the spike of pain, loving the way it feels, and you pick up the pace, fucking me faster.

Just as you start to reach your peak, you feel the familiar tug of my muscles, see the tremor in my legs, and you know I'm at the edge. Grinning, you press me harder against the wall, your chest against my wet back, and sink your teeth into my shoulder. I cry out as I start to cum, and it pushes you over the edge. You thrust yourself up into me as deep as you can and let go, flooding my cunt with scalding cum. Holding me tight, teeth still biting, you moan as you shoot rope after rope of burning seed it me, as you feel me coat your cock in my own juices.

It feels like hours that we stay there under the water, catching our breaths and coming back into ourselves. When we finally break apart, I turn and pull you into my arms, holding you against me as I shake.

For now, we're sated, and the need for food becomes clear. We wash eachother, but it's tender and affectionate now, although we end up in fits of giggles when you give yourself a Santa beard made of bubbles. Soon we're clean, and wrapped in thick towels.

You sit on the bed, watching my reflection in the mirror of the dressing table I've taken over. My makeup bag is open in front of me, and I'm hunting for things and muttering to myself. You grin, and lay back to relax; until a pair of socks bounces off your chest.

You sit up, smiling at my cheeky grin, and ask me what that was for. I tell you that you need to get ready and get out - I've got prep to do that I want to keep a surprise. You raise an eyebrow and ask me where you're supposed to go; I remind you that the hotel has a very lovely bar on the third floor, and that I'll be meeting you there before we head out for dinner.

You nod, knowing I won't change my mind, and start to get dressed. Your smart trousers fit you well, and your shirt is one I've always liked you in. When I stand and move to you, you ask me what I'm up to, but let me roll your sleeves up without a fuss; you know how much I love to see your tattoos.

Reaching into my suitcase, I pull out a tissue-wrapped gift for you, and you're delighted to see it's a new waistcoat. You kiss my nose and pull it on, and I'm pleased to see it fits you perfectly. You button up the front and strike a silly pose, making me laugh. I pull you to me and kiss you softly, before running my fingers through your still-damp hair.

I kneel behind you on the bed, slowly combing through your long hair, before pulling it into a plait. You look at yourself in the mirror and see that I'm watching you, my blue eyes softer now. Twisting, you kiss me, then shift to grab your shoes.

Once completely dressed, you stick your wallet in your pocket and smile at me, sat once more at the dressing table. You bend and kiss the back of my neck, telling me not to be too long, before leaving for the bar.

Once you're gone, I reach for the large, stiff paper bag, smiling. On the bed I lay out a dress and other items, hoping you'll like them. I finish my makeup and dry and style my hair, curling and pinning bits until it looks pretty. Smokey, rosy perfume clings lightly to my skin.

Reaching for the items on the bed, I take my time dressing, slowly pulling on stockings and doing up fastenings. I pull a pair of black heels from my suitcase and slip them on, looking at myself in the full-length mirror, the dress still on the bed. Reaching for my phone, I switch on the camera and take a couple of shots, biting my lip and smiling. Satisfied, I reach for the dress and zip myself into it, grab my small clutch bag and the room key, and follow you to the bar.

You're on your second Kraken and coke, sat at the bar, when you see me walk in, and your heart nearly stops.

Your eyes travel up from the shiny black heels that make my calf muscles taut, over the nude stockings that shimmer ever-so faintly, to the hem of my dress resting a couple of inches above my knee. I know your tastes well, and the dark navy and green tartan dress that clings to my curves sends the blood rushing downwards. The sheath dress is sleeveless, and in the soft bar lights my skin glows ivory. Almost business-like, the dress shows no cleavage, but you know my body well, and it makes no difference; you want me intensely.

Bright red lips look incredibly kissable, and my eyes are framed with sooty black lashes that draw you in until you're lost. The strands of copper in my hair glint in the light, and you decide you've never seen me look so beautiful.

Walking over to you, I grin cheekily and ask if you'll buy a girl a drink. You nod, still slightly stunned and floating on the smell of me, and order me a small gin and tonic.

While we wait for the taxi to arrive we're quiet, sipping at our drinks and looking at each other. You've taken my hand, twisting your fingers through mine, and scan the bar; you catch other men trying less-than-subtly to check me out, but you're not jealous at all. You know I'm oblivious, know that if you told me, I'd be confused and say it wasn't the case, and so you just feel pleased - I'm here with *you*.

A bartender tells us our taxi has arrived, and we head out into the warm evening air. You open to taxi door for me and watch my long legs as I slide across to my seat, clocking the taxi driver looking in his rear-view mirror. Grinning inwardly, you climb in beside me, and the driver pulls away.

We arrive at the restaurant and you're a little surprised - it looks smaller than you had expected, and seems very quiet. You open your mouth to ask me if we're in the right place, but see me smiling. I pay and tip the driver, asking him for a card with his number so we can call him when we're done, and we climb out of the taxi.

Entering the restaurant, you realise that it is indeed small, but it's beautiful and almost every one of the very few tables is full. A waiter in a tasteful suit approaches and guides us to a table. He pulls my chair out and I sit down with a smile and a thank you as you sit opposite me. He leaves to fetch us drinks and menus, and I ask you if you have your phone with you.

Confused, you say yes, and pull it from your pocket. You're surprised to see the notification light flashing, and even more so when you see the completely innocent look on my face. As you unlock your phone and open the message, I watch the waiter approach with our drinks. You've gone bright red and as you catch sight of the waiter you nearly drop your phone as you try to stuff it hastily into your pocket.

The waiter doesn't notice anything odd as he deposits our drinks and menus and informs us he will be back shortly for our orders. As soon as he is out of earshot, you look over at me, shocked and trying to ignore the throbbing in your trousers.

The pictures I took, I sent in the taxi, and now you know what's waiting for you underneath my dress. You tell me that I'm lucky we're in public, or else you'd have me right here and now; I smile coyly and tell you that that's rather the effect I was hoping for.

Sipping my drink demurely, affecting a nonchalant air, I pick up my menu and start to decide, knowing I'll not have much. You watch me for a minute, trying to calm your heartbeat, and reach for your own menu. You quickly decide on a medium rare steak with mushroom sauce, and you're pleased to see asparagus as an option for a side dish. You ask if I'll be having the same, and I tell you I've decided on mushroom stroganoff. Neither of us is fussed about starters, and we aren't sure if we'll want desserts.