The Reunion Ch 01 10

You'll meet me at the airport. When we see each other, you'll jump into my arms, staggering me a little but I'll quickly regain my footing. Funny how that is so indicative of our relationship...

As we cruise back to our apartment, sharing stories and laughs and palpable sexual tension. We're just young lovers who have spent enough time apart that our pyre has been fully built with the most incendiary of fuel, ready to spark at the strike of a match. I'll put my hand on your knee while in the cab, just so I can feel your electricity. What you feel is slightly different - a feeling familiar yet new. Like the latest upgrade to a sports car, it still drives but there is something more aggressive powering it now. I'm holding your leg just a little tighter, not in a painful way, but in a commanding way with an air of ownership. You are taken aback but intrigued.

I'll tell you I want to stop for coffee. I really just want to spend more time soaking you in, watching you, listening to you, basking in all that is pent up within me. I want to turn the pressure cooker to "high" before I give you my release. I want to stoke your fire, pouring gasoline onto you and teasing the matchbook in front of your face. You think you know what is coming, but subconsciously something feels anxiously foreign.

We have our coffee, a pastry as well, and we walk around just for a little bit. I stop in to buy a bottle of wine for us to share and celebrate our reunion. You can see a passion in my eyes, but it's darker than what you remember. There is a new motivation behind them; you feel like a gazelle approaching a spring that you know the lions frequent. You are terrified but your thirst is overwhelming. You must tempt danger.

As we walk we can't keep our hands off each other. You glide your hand across my back on your way to holding my hand; my hand drifts down just a little too far on your lower back as I guide you through the streets. I slide my hand under your dress just to make sure your skin is as hot as I need it to be. You grab my cock as you move in front of me and feel my animalistic instincts already shuttling blood toward it.

When we get back to our apartment, you give me a tour. You show off the foyer, the washroom, the view, and our bed. Every time you look at me you see the intensity in my eyes - the one that you know is true and visceral and not curated. I make no attempt to hide it. You know I want you. I want you to know and to not be able to think clearly about anything else.

When the tour is over, I pull your hips into mine. My cologne gets you high as I run my hand through your hair and down onto your cheek. You have no control over your knees weakening. You lean into me, not intentionally, but because your legs will give out if you don't.

"I've been waiting for this, to get you next to me," I growl to you.

Through my warm breath on your neck, all you can manage is an exacerbated sigh.

Holding your head with both my hands now, I kiss you. I push my tongue against yours and they begin to dance. You run your hands across my shoulders - how you've missed their stability and strength. I slide my hand down to your chest, red hot with passion and desire. I can feel your heart beating so fast, your breathing laboured and anxious. My hands continue their travel to the top of your thighs and I pull your dress up, slightly, exposing your thong already soaked with anticipation.

"You've waited so long for this, baby, I know. But this isn't for you."

My right hand grabs your throat, lifting up onto your toes. Your eyes dart back and forth between mine, searching for some sign of remorse, pleading for restraint. Your heartbeat stops, briefly, then returns with a new force and pace. Genuine fear grips your nervous system but is overtaken by your need to submit to me.

"Daddy," is all you can whisper as I collapse your vocal cords.

I kiss you again, forcing my tongue to the back of your throat. You wonder if this is passion fueling me now, or an impulsive need to break you. My grip never loosens around your throat and your eyes bulge under the pressure. With my left hand I slide the shoulders of your dress down, exposing your tits. Your nipples ache and stand erect waiting for attention.

"You need this," I whisper in your ear. "You are incomplete without my hands around your neck and my cock inside you."

You nod in fervent agreement. You've never heard a truer statement.

I guide your hand to my belt. "Unbuckle it. Reach down and find what will complete you."

You can feel the blood flowing through the veins of my cock. It throbs under your touch. You gasp, "Daddy, I need it," as if it's your decision.

I push your dress down to the floor and step back from you. You are fully exposed, save the thin layer of soaked fabric covering your tight holes. "Touch yourself. Go on baby, don't pretend that you're not a little slut. Don't act like you haven't wanted this since the moment we parted."

You move toward me, reaching for my cock. I grab your hand and slap you across the face. "Who do you think you are? You really think you deserve this?" I responded. It concerns you that there was no anger in my voice; I spoke with an assertiveness only available to someone who believes what they are saying. You don't deserve to feel my cock yet. You don't deserve it in your hands, in your mouth, and certainly not in your dripping pussy and tight asshole. I push you back onto the bed and push your legs open. "Rub your clit, just like the nights in Vietnam when you ached for my touch."

You sit up and slap me. "Fuck you."

I grab your throat, tight under your jaw, while simultaneously pulling the root of the hair on the back of your head. Your mouth hangs open, frantically searching for life-giving oxygen. I spit in your mouth. I slap you again, harder than before, hard enough that your cheek turns red almost instantly with distinct palm and finger prints. Your first tattoo of the evening. I hold your hand, softly as a lover would, and gently guide it between your legs. With my hand over yours, I begin showing you how to rub your cunt. Euphoria washes over your face as you give in to my command. With your knees spread and propped up on the bed, I take a step back and admire what belongs to me. I can see your legs trembling already and let you get yourself close to release. I love to watch your chest rise and fall. I love knowing your heart rate is increasing by my command. I love watching you show your truest self to me. Right before you go over the edge, I pull your hand away. You fight back but are easily overpowered. You need the release, but it is mine to give to you, and take away, at my will.

I grab the back of your head and neck, pulling you off the bed, standing you up in front of me. I pull your hands behind your back and pull your panties down around your knees.

"Look at how slutty you are. You filthy whore. My filthy, fucking, whore." I pepper your ass with spanks. The sting shoots directly to your pussy which pulses in response. You whimper and scream with each strike. You drip down your legs, uncontrolled passion overflowing from you.

"You are going to earn your release. You are going to earn my love from your knees. Are you ready to prove yourself to me? Are you ready to prove your undying faith to your God?"

Your body provides the response I need as it shutters under my touch. My raspy voice in your ear is amplified by my hands exploring your body, groping and prodding at will. You fall to your knees in front of me and I hold your chin between my thumb and forefinger.

"You are in your rightful place, baby. You belong exactly here."

I grab the bottle of wine and take a long swig from it. You slowly pull my jeans down. My cock is outlined by my boxers with precum soaking through the tip. You press your lips to me to get a taste of it. You can smell the passion coming from me, making you lightheaded. You can feel the heat from my cock and balls radiate to your cheeks. You slide two fingers from each hand into the waistband of my boxers and slowly pull them down. My cock, solid with anticipation, springs free in front of your face. You smirk and look up at me.

"Open your mouth, baby," I growl at you. You oblige, having learned your lesson for now, and move toward my cock. I grab your head and stop you from achieving your goal. I tilt your face up so you can stare into my eyes. "You're going to need this," I say as I pour a long stream of wine into your mouth. "This will hurt, baby. I am going to tattoo myself on your heart, your pussy, and your soul. I am going to take such good care of you."