July-September

It'd been a hot night, all be it cooler than earlier in the week. I'd walked for over an hour across the city because I didn't feel like descending into the hot, sweltering subterranean tunnels of the metro system. Still, I was warm and glad to finally sit down on the sidewalk where it met the street.

While settling into wait outside the metro station, I looked over and a woman in white sat reading no more than 20 feet away. A loose summery blouse, knee length shorts and sandals filled out the casual ensemble. Shoulder length brunette, with a nice figure.

The bus came within ten minutes of waiting. Once or twice I'd looked over again. I witnessed a youthful face but not overly so. Late twenty's perhaps? Early to mid thirty's? In any case definitely one that caught my attention. There was something alive within her very presence.

I offered to be second into the bus, but the offer wasn't accepted, or perhaps it was merely unexpected and my offer drew out hesitation. So I walked in first and curled up comfortably in the farthest bank of seats. At the back corner of a bus you can have a greater sense of freedom, and you can stretch your legs a bit easier. So I always try to get that spot even if the windows don't open as widely as they do further up in the bus's mid-section. In any case, it seemed I wasn't the only one who liked the back corner of the bus.

We sat otherwise alone at opposite corners of the bus's rear. As the bus took off and began its route I looked over once or twice more. Sandals off. Feet dangled over a set of empty seats that ran perpendicular to our respective corners, maybe fifteen feet along the bus's interior.

Small tattoo of a butterfly on one foot, just before the toes. In a word, sexy. Maybe kind of girly in a really endearing sort of way. Was she still a teenager when the tattoo was applied?

At half past midnight, there was something about that simple uninhibited act, those bare feet dangling there so casually that was nearly intoxicating. Furtive tertiary glances suggested definitely mid to later 30's. Yet so relaxed and confident. The countenance of someone who knows what they want and how they want it. Particularly as reflected within such gorgeous eyes.

Gazing away and into the window I could see the reflection of feet, ankles and a fraction of calf. Stores, houses and bus stops went by. Occasional late night travelers got on and off. The ride wasn't that long but it was enough time that I started to feel like I was sixteen again with my engorged length warm and hard against one thigh as I gazed out the window, the bus relentlessly going along its route. Thank god for cargo's and casual seating postures that let one maintain an appearance of propriety.

It was then just a matter of trying to erase the instinctual fantasy of being deep inside a hot squeezing canal, my sack grinding into warm crotch and thighs, wondering would sucking on a neck's soft flesh elicit moans of pleasure as my length thrust within, down below? What would the taste of such an intimate liaison smell like? Hot, musty with traces of perfume, deodorant and various hair-care products? Would there be moaning, or brief cries of agonized pleasure as our orgasms grabbed hold of our slick, sweaty entwined bodies?

Yet such thoughts just wouldn't get me off the bus in a respectable state so i shook my head, and tried to Zen my mind clean thinking of nothing more than an incredibly cold shower. I've never been one to get into polar bear antics in mid winter on a beach or outdoor pool but I do have a few ideas as to what it must feel like.

By the time I'd fully relaxed and had got myself into a state decent to walk respectably upright, I'd missed my stop. Still I figured I'd get off when the bus came around on the other side. I was in no rush to come home to my roommate who'd SMS'd me earlier that he'd picked up a "friend". Mind you I wasn't too bothered by it, as he was the sort of guy who hadn't seen too much action since he broke up with his girl friend six months ago.

Now, I'd text'd my roomy just a while before I got on the bus but hadn't received any reply so I was kind of in the dark and calls had lead nowhere outside of a voice box. So I figured whatever, if his car was in the parking lot outside I'd probably kill the rest of the morning on the town and coming home twenty minutes later on the return route meant little.

I suppose everything I've written so far about sums up what was running through my head and where I was at before you spoke to me. I have to admit it was a mild surprise; I mean I was just sitting there in my own peaceful little world at the end of the line, waiting before the bus took off again to return to the metro another thirty minutes away. I'd got to that quiet Zen state where I'd forgot you were even across the bank of back seats.

Your voice's accent and its warm timbre I think were what caught my attention although it was a touch jarring to have it combined with such a request. I guess the notion you'd want someone to accompany you to your door in this neighborhood was a bit odd, especially just some guy you didn't know on the same bus, then again yeah, sure, I'd heard the tales of a recent spat of home invasions in the area. But I mean that kind of thing just doesn't usually happen to me. Ok, there was that one time this girl tried to pick me up years ago as I got off the night bus, but I needed to get home and catch a train within the following few hours. Career interests before life and all that jazz.

Walking to your place I kept feeling as if the world had become ever so slightly surreal but I didn't mention it. Your banter was engaging and refreshing. It was nice to talk to someone who could hold a conversation and flow through various subject matter with the deftness of a socialite without the stereotypically associated shallowness. Though maybe I'm being unfair and have had a bad series of past experiences.

When we got to your door, the trip as I'd honestly expected it to be, was uneventful outside of delightful conversation. As I mentally prepared myself to take my leave and head back to the bus stop, I was again surprised when you offered me tea and a chance to continue our discourse. I remember my eyes dropping to skim your fingers and your response. That no, you weren't spoken for. By the tone of your voice I briefly got the impression while not a regret it was something of a tender, sore spot, so I just left it be and fell in line as you let us in.

Your living quarters were as I said that night, impressive. I adored how you had everything arranged just so. The patterns of easy travel within each room were so well thought out. Spatially your arrangement style was spectacular. I think it was also the matter of how it combined with your astute sense of color co-ordination. You just knew how to make a comfortable environment. Ok, maybe the mild frequency of carved elephants showing up, here and there kind of threw me, but then again, I'll admit to a secret affection for Popples. Why Popples? Well, because I think they're just plain cool and always have been.

I've been trying to remember what music you put on when we went into your study. I can't seem to place it. Was it Bach, Beethoven or someone else? I'm no aficionado of classical music so I'll just say it really suited the rhythm of our candor and perhaps the subtle mood of your double entendre's that were being interspersed within your occasionally flirty turns of phrase.

I remember sitting at your desk, skimming some of your work in an industry journal that you'd been published in. It was fascinating reading and while I couldn't follow all of it, I didn't feel the time go by as you wandered off to refresh yourself and make tea. I'm usually unnerved when people come up from behind me if I'm deep in thought or working on something important. When you returned there was something so comforting about your approach behind me, leaning in to read over my shoulder and note how far I'd got into your white paper that I felt totally at ease. It was as if you were further away than you were. So when I looked back to say something, I didn't really mean to gaze into your inviting cleavage. Your body seemingly bound about with nothing more than a loose dark cotton robe barely tied at the waist.

Your question shortly there after was one I have to admit I'm not going to forget for a long time. That being, did I want to spend the rest of the night mutually masturbating intellectually or could I be interested in sex? The way the question so easily slipped from your lips made it seem so natural a query it was easy to accept the latter option.

There was also the, "lets not disappoint each other" comment as you left the array of various condoms and packaged "keeping up" pills on your study's table near the far end of the room by the door on your way out. It was hard to not laugh at the suggestion but I took your point of course as much as I accepted the offer.

Slipping into your bedroom a few moments later you looked so good just laying there naked on your bed, its single summer sheet in mild disarray, open, your prior day's attire cast off onto the floor near by in a casual heap. The dim low light of the room illuminated and shaded all the right curves of your figure. I found myself wondering, did you know it would? Or was I just imagining things?

The way you crawled off your bed so sensuously your breasts swaying just enough to be noted until you put your foot down on the floor and walked into my slow advance warmed my loins as I gazed into your deep, soulful eyes. Kissing your lips, tasting the flavor of your saliva, breathing in your warm scent as your hands loosened my shirt up my chest was such a nourishing experience. I could barely bring myself to break off the kiss as you drew my shirt off casually letting it fall to the floor.

Stepping back you still looked beautiful with an edge of wisdom. The sort of wisdom that comes with age, that knew your body's wants. The kind of knowing that hoped my lust could keep up with yours. Not just physically, but with your libido's hunger. As I slid my pants off with your help and then drew you back up by the chin, the way you stroked my length with your hand nearly had me wanting to mindlessly thrust into your vaginal depths right then and there.

Over and over I wanted to feed your body's need. Quench its thirst with my slick, sweet, ... but that would have been getting ahead of the moment's tenderness. So just stroking the curves of your body's sides, drawing you close with my arm around your back as I kissed your lips softly was somehow, simply just right.

I've decided you're the mistress of left field. The way you drop the most curious of statements at moments making them seem so natural is a real talent. The fruit roll-up comment was great. The funny thing was it's been ages since I've had one. Watching you spreading your legs as you lay back on your bed was such an erotic stimulant. More so was the erotically charged smell of your crotch. The scent of your body's heat and the day's summer sweat kept my shaft firm as I knelt before you unraveling the grape flavored dental dam. Sucking and licking it, asking you for direction and you being oh so direct about what you wanted as much as how: mixing medicinal precision with horny gutter talk kept me firmly at attention while enjoying the tasty clit and lip licking.

The way you'd arch your back and moan gave rise to such moisture and girth within my loins. I've never been with anyone who was quite so vocal and enjoyed it when they told me to lick and suck as you had me. When you had me slide a finger into your sex and then another, getting me to work you from within just the way you liked it made me feel as if I was in a wet dream until you shuddered and came all over my hand. Your post coital aroma was so memorably delicious. That state of euphoria you seemed to hold within your gaze as you lay there recovering: sheer beauty. It made me want you so badly.

On hands and knees over you, suckling and kissing your chest and breasts, as you lay there slowly recovering, your breasts tasted so good. I'm not sure why sucking a woman's breasts can be such a turn on during sex, I just know it is, for me. Your hands, around my member stroking me soon got my attention. Kissing your lips and suckling on your tongue as you put the condom onto my throbbing hard length, I found myself dreaming about it later that morning.

The way you then held my ass and caressed my back as I descended into your wet slit, between your gorgeous thighs, your hand guiding me, penetrating your depths was electric. Your moist soft flesh and then your body's way of tightening around my intrusion had me enthralled. I think it's why I got so lust laced. Throbbing in and out of your pussy, your moans and the look on your face, your grinding hips that just knew how to move, how to get what you wanted.

I can still conjure up in my imagination the sound of your groan as you came, your sex clenched around my condom-coated length, kissing your mouth soon after as your toes curled up and your legs entwined with mine holding me in you as I kept up my lustful penetrations. The jiggling of your breasts back and forth on my chest as I shook you with my need with each thrust, eventually sent me over the edge. Or perhaps it was your tongue and your sex charged kisses. Maybe it could have been the raw heat and sweat of our bodies exuding that sweet scent of sex, or the repeated sensation of my groin and sack grinding up into your crotch. Either way, when I came, I knew I wanted more of you that night.

So when you finally pulled away, turned over and told me you wanted it from behind as you got up on your hands and knees? It was something I wanted too. I wanted the sensation of your now wet passage wrapping around the head of my length. I wanted the feeling of your legs against mine spread as they were while I throbbed in and out of your pussy. Being able to caress your ass cheeks, appreciate the line of your body while viewing out of the corner of my eye: your breasts swaying back and forth as I throbbed into you is what I enjoyed so much about that position. I still can't remember how many times we came like that, you losing it, moaning and collapsing on the bed as I'd move down, forward and keep up the pleasure for you. At least until I'd come and slow down, drowning myself in the scent of your hair and the sweat that lingered on your shoulder as I'd kiss and lick one or the other nuzzling softly against an ear.

Then there was the slow and gentle thing where you'd finally been sated enough in doggy that you wanted something more sensual. Something slow and soft. That whole cross-legged thing was great for that. Sitting before you with my length inside your sex, our bodies so close together as we made out was in my mind utterly delicious. Just sitting there, rocking back and forth slowly as I savored the taste of your tongue. Being able to caress your naked back, holding you that close made me lose track of time. I still have no idea how long we lingered there on the edge of release before you finally pushed me back and started to ride me with your breasts jiggling up and down, your groin and hips rocking to get hit just the right way until you came with a brief shuddering squeal of pleasured surprise.

After that startling orgasm I remember holding you on top of me, just supporting and caressing your back over and over. Eventually as I drew away, slipped off the condom into a wastebasket and then snuggled in against you it was apparent the night had finally caught up with you tea or not. My last thought before passing out? Your cheeks and chin are so soft and delicious that I could nuzzle them for a long time.