Waiting to Meet Him

Another day at work now just means another day closer to meeting him for the first time. It's a slow day in my job as store manager, restocking our clothing line mid morning and daydreaming into the distance, watching the world pass. It seems though, yes it definitely seems - I can feel I'm wet, my pussy is wet; as I dazed thinking about our first date, a customer brushed past me wearing Tom Ford Oud, the same scent I've dreamed of inhaling from his skin as I bite his chest and tease him for the first time.

My lace panties ruined, I head out the back taking an early lunch break to, erm rectify the situation. Wait, do I text him and tell him how my morning's going? I hesitate, whilst I've sent him photos of me, I've never been too revealing, do I play all my cards now and tell him how I'm dripping thinking of his warm cum inside me? ... No, let's hold back this time, I lock myself in the staff room, desperately unzipping my jeans and running my finger round my clit through my panties, then slipping them aside and gently inserting the same finger, reeling back in ecstasy as I do. I slam my legs up on the table, biting my lip and trying desperately not to moan too loud, but there's something alluring about the prospect of being caught. Will any of my colleagues hear me? Wonder why I've not left the store? Fuck them, as the orgasm hits and I squirt for him, struggling to keep still as it writhes through me, wave after wave of pleasure in his absence. I guess I should kind of get round to telling you about him though...

We've been talking for weeks, every time I call him on his way home from work, he pulls over in the same spot, overlooking the stunning skyline of the city. I know he loves when I call because that parking space, that environment in that moment becomes his dirty pleasure as he moans listening to my voice though the phone, bringing him to orgasm, taking and gripping the power tight, just as I would his cock in my hands. You see, he's different, I mean really different - there's something so maturing about him, his knowledge, his way with words and my god, that deeper late evening DJ-esque voice when he tells me what he'd do to me. It sends me wild every time, the lust for him is growing greater by the day, marked now only by how many times I've made him orgasm, we're up to 11 now in just under a week.

Tonight as we speak on the phone, something seems different - a mix of nerves and pleasure shudder my body, am I anxious to meet, does he want to meet? He's set a date, next Monday he'll come to me, played into my hands, just the way I want him. I've booked our table at my restaurant of choice, knowing we can get lost on the way back in his black 4x4. So it's happening, it's finally happening, I'm meeting him and there's only the weekend and my sex drive to contend with in the meantime. I've got Saturday off work but Sunday will drag as it usually does, the difficult customers, the short staffing and the inability to take a break long enough to even think of him, let alone repeat yesterday's show.

Sunday arrives, and in my attempt at a dry run for our date, I dress to impress, I want to be reminded how it feels to have men gawp at me in front of their wives, to be reminded of how it feels to wear my best lingerie under my workwear. I live close enough to work to leave at the last minute, often ensuring I'm... suitably satisfied before my shift begins then arriving just on time, the envy of those beneath me who are drawn to the mystery I give off. Stretching as I strut to the shower naked, I can almost feel his lips between my legs and the feeling of being so free and naked for him. Showering has become somewhat dull in the week leading up to today, I'm too keen to experience the pleasure from him, nothing else can compare anymore and as the hours draw closer to our encounter, I decide to relinquish today's pleasure in anticipation of an even more powerful orgasm tomorrow, so I hope.

The noise of the rain bouncing off the window ledges normally drowns out my moans, much to my neighbour's gratitude. I always have my bedroom window opening, finding the cool breeze on cold nights rushing through the bed soothing and leaving me lusting for him to be by my side keeping me warm, his hands wrapped round my breasts. Today though, there is no need to drown out my moans, the only thing my neighbours will hear is my drawers closing as I pick out today's outfit. I dress up today with a leopard print and black lace pair of panties, encased in black patterned tights and wrapped up in a red dress from our store. You think I've forgotten to tell you about my bra, well it's barely there, a black lace bralette to feel free today, my mind only thinking about how he's going to grab my breasts hard and bite my nipples tomorrow. Just before I leave, I hesitate, running back upstairs and pulling that very same drawer open again. I can't wear tights today, he's told me how he wants to rip a hole in them to fuck me when the time comes, I can't cope thinking about that moment whilst working. I swap them for a pair of seamed stockings, rolling them up my legs, reminiscent of how I placed my legs up on that table as I fingered my tight pussy for him. That's me sorted now, slipping my heels back on as I leave the house, growing ever more desperate for his love.

It would only be fair for me to tell you how my day went but we have another chapter for that.