After their almost violent coupling on her desk, her legs were quivering as she tried to compose herself. 'God, what have I done? she thought. But then she looked up into his eyes, and she knew exactly what she had done; fulfilled a fantasy months in the making. And she wasn't done with him yet. She straightened, smoothed her blouse and skirt down, and grabbed her purse and coat. "Coming, Tom?" she purred.
Straightening his own clothing, Tom shuddered at the naked promise in her voice. He took her hand, and they left the classroom to head to his car. It was a black Mustang, an older model. It had been his passion for years to own one, and now he did. He helped her into the passenger seat, watching her long legs as she swung them into the car. He walked around and got in, and started the car. It rumbled to life with a muscular hum, and she swore she could feel the vibration in her pussy.
Driving smoothly out of the parking lot, he headed to her house. He didn't need directions; he'd driven by there a hundred times. No words were spoken as they made the short drive. He knew what she was feeling; the hesitation, the self doubt, wondering if she was crazy. He felt the same things. 'What am I doing?' he wondered. He almost let her go, let her get out of the car and walk away. But he couldn't.
Opening her door, he gripped her hand and helped her out. Looking into her eyes, he saw the passion there, still burning hot. He had known it would be, that was only one of the reasons her preferred older women. They knew what their bodies were capable of, the multiple orgasms, the intense physical reactions. He felt sorry for women who would never know those capabilities. And pity for the men who didn't know how to drive their women there.
Lifting her soft hand, she let him pull her from the car. She didn't know what she was doing there. She cursed herself, her lack of inhibitions when she was with a lover, her craving for more, her need for him. She'd dreamed of him for months, longing for his touch, for his rough possession, for his cock. For it to be buried deep inside her, ravaging her, taking her. She looked up into his eyes and was lost. She'd pay the price, whatever it would be, to be with him again.
Her long fingers traced his eyebrows as she gazed into his blue eyes. She saw herself reflected back; her tousled hair, her swollen lips, the naked desire in her own eyes. She shuddered, then drew on all of her self control, and took his hand and led him to the front door. Unlocking the door, the opened it, and they stepped inside. She immediately turned, and shoved him back against the door.
She kissed him, a deep, almost savage kiss, her mouth wide open, her tongue plunging into his mouth, her hand coming down to settle between his thighs. She felt a need to reclaim the power, to do things her way, to take him, rather than him taking her. He tried to touch her, and she moved back, breaking the kiss. "Not yet," she said. Gripping both of his wrists in her strong hands, she raised them to shoulder level, holding him there against the door.
Straddling one of his thighs, she rocked herself against him, her skirt riding high on her legs. The soft denim was heaven on her naked pussy, her panties having been shredded by him earlier. She rode him, her thigh pressing against his erection as she did. But this was for her, not for him. She quivered, and stepped back. "Take off your clothes, Tom." She wanted him naked, wanted to see all of the body she had dreamed of for so long.
Smiling, he removed his jacket, then his shirt. His chest was smooth, strong, his skin like living satin, burnished a deep gold from the sun and hard work. She licked her lips as he unbuckled and unsnapped his belt and jeans. The zipper slid down, and he shucked his shorts and jeans off his hips, exposing his cock. It was smooth, and thick, and hard as a rock. As he groaned, it moved, the tip nudging towards his firm belly. He heeled off his boots, then slid his clothes off. 'Finally,' she thought. She had wanted this, wanted him naked before her, for so very long.
Moving close to him, he could feel her warm breath on his neck. "Don't move," she warned. He put his palms flat against the door, and waited. She slowly removed her blouse and skirt. All that remained covering her lush body were thigh high stockings and a beige lacy bra. Stepping closer, she began to lick and nibble her way down his neck, her tongue soft and wet against his skin. He shuddered. Continuing down, she rasped her tongue across one of his rigid nipples, then the other. Sucking one into her mouth, she laved it slowly. He groaned.
