We Can't Do This

"We can't do this," he said.

"I know," I agreed.

"But I really want to..." he continued.

"You should probably go," I said.

"Right." He walked backward a few steps in the direction of the door, then stopped at the edge of the counter.

"Why am I still here?" he asked in a whisper, his Spanish accent a purr. Then, making up his mind he shook his head. "I'll see you tomorrow," he resolved, and stepped back in my direction and reached for a final parting hug.

Every atom in my being screamed for me to hold on to him, to grab his face and press my lips to his, to press the entire length of myself against his body, but I let my hand fall from his back. He caught my fingers briefly before he turned and left, fumbling momentarily with the doorknob, but not looking back.

I covered my face with my hands, disappointment negating whatever trickle of relief I should have felt. What did I just do? He was right there within reach, the man I'd fantasized about for nearly a year, and I let him walk out the door.

He wasn't sure, I reminded myself. He didn't want it, and I'll be damned if I throw myself at a man who's not sure he wants me.

I laid my folded arms on the desk, thunked my head down on top of them and tried to surrender to the grief. He's an asshole, I thought. He keeps tempting me and running away. He's fucking with my head. I almost didn't hear the door.

Lifting my head I saw him step tentatively back into the room, the look on his face betraying his uncertainty.

I didn't think. I rose and strode across the room, not sure if I wanted to slap him for making me feel this way, for his indecisiveness, and not knowing what the other half of me was capable of, but his expression wore the same hunger and desperation I felt.

I threw myself into his arms, all of my resolve, all of the very good advice I'd given myself, evaporated in the heat I could feel of him through his coat. His goatee scratched my chin as his lips sought mine, and his uncertainty was entirely gone.

He pushed me backward, pressing me into the wall, his hands on my hips, my breasts, my wrists as we devoured each others' mouths, and then his arms were around my waist. Pulling my body tightly against his, he half carried, half dragged, me to the counter, where he perched me on the edge.

Pulling back for a moment, he placed his fingertips on my breastbone and held me at a distance. Lust burned in his eyes and his jaw trembled slightly. "If you don't want this, you'd better say so," he warned, "because I don't think I can stop."

"If you wanted to stop, you shouldn't have come back," I said, defiantly raising my chin, and then his mouth was on mine again, and we were breathing each others' breath.

His hands grasped my buttocks, pulling me into him, crushing our pelvises together, and I could feel the heat from his fully erect penis radiating through our clothes. Our hands and arms moved restlessly across our backs and sides and necks, taking in each others' shapes in a frenzied tactile adventure.

My hands found their way between us and grasped his pulsing shaft through his jeans, then fumbled with his belt.

His hands intervened, and in a second his belt and his pants were unfastened, his tongue never leaving its dance with mine.

Pressing both of my hands against his chest I pushed him away, sliding down from the countertop, and backing him against the wall. In moments I was on my knees, his beautifully thick, Spanish penis hot in my hands. I licked the purple knob, running my flattened tongue around its circumference, and glanced up to see his eyes roll back and close. I pulled his erection down to ninety degrees and engulfed the shaft, taking him as deeply as I could. My throat stretched and I felt the slippery metallic sweetness of his precum in the back of my mouth before easing back slowly until my lips rested on the slit at the very tip. Running my tongue around the outside again, then up the underside from base to crown, I slathered him with my spit and jacked him with my hand while teasing the crown of his cock with my tongue. When I sucked him back in again he groaned, and I pulled him all the way in again until my noise pressed into his pubic hair.

Wrapping my right hand around the base I squeezed gently as I worked my mouth back and forth, letting the back of my throat squeeze him with each tentative thrust of his hips as my tongue and lips pleasured his shaft.

Letting go of the wall he tangled his hands in my hair and began working my mouth in a rhythm, gently at first, but growing more and more insistent as I worked my magic until he was fucking my face.

Breathless with tears streaking my cheeks, I sucked air in rapidly through my nose smelling soap in his pubes from his morning shower. My left hand continued to cup and caress his testicles as my fingertips searched for that special spot on his perineum, the tell tale lump that sends waves of pleasure straight to his prostate. When my fingertip found the magic button, I pressed gently and immediately felt his reaction.

Gasping he pushed down on my shoulders and his penis stiffened further. I pressed my face as tightly as I could to his crotch and felt the thick rod pulse as he shot streams of cum into my mouth.

As the twitching subsided I pulled back and licked the remaining juices from the shaft, being careful not to tickle the sensitive, overstimulated underside.

Glancing up I saw that he was watching my careful ministrations with his mouth slightly agape.

"That was," he said slowly in his gorgeous Spanish purr, his words punctuated by heavy breaths, "by far the most amazing blow job I've ever experienced."

"Thank you," I said, wiping my mouth and letting him pull me to my feet.

I tucked his spent penis back in his pants and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. "I have to go," I whispered in his ear, then kissed his earlobe and pulled away.

"What about you?" he asked, seizing my wrist as I turned to retrieve my purse.

"I don't know," I said, "I have to go. We don't have any more time."

"What about tomorrow?" he persisted, grasping my hips and turning me to face him.

"Let's just play it by ear, 'kay?"

Brushing my lips across his once again, I pulled away and left, going home to my waiting husband and leaving him to gather his composure before returning to his wife.