Anticipation, Pt 1

It had been 10 long days apart from my man, and my body was delirious with want. His flight landed in Orlando and after a few hours of driving, he was at my door. His hair was cut lower than normal, his beard looked freshly trimmed, his ass nice and firm in his blue jeans, and the turquoise shirt he wore made him look like a colorful Instagram snack.

I stepped aside to let him in and after closing the door behind us, pushed him up against the wall to greet his lips with mine. Immediately I felt the rigidity of his jeans against my stomach.

I released him to go make us drinks. Baileys on ice for me and Crown and ginger for him. He came up behind me and started sucking on my neck and shoulders hard. Then he turned me around and buried his tongue in my welcoming mouth. We went on like this for a while. When he let me go to get his drink my whole body was intoxicated. I struggled to stand still without his strong arms around me.

He took a sip of his drink and confessed to me that he was feeling conflicted. I probed for more.

I can’t decide whether to make love to you or fuck you.

That was the second time in a few days that he used to word love. His eyes showed even more vulnerability – it wasn’t just about making love, I could totally see the love he possessed for me but had yet to express.

I want both.

I want you to fuck me slowly and kiss me softly. I want eye contact while you sink into me. I want you to eat my ass and slap it too. I want you to choke and scratch me while I cum for you.

While he was away we had several seductive conversations in which I detailed my lust for building anticipation and teasing. It seemed he remembered my words because instead of fucking me right away, we took our drinks to the living room and resumed the episode of Gilmore Girls I had on. He sat in my black leather sofa as I drank him in from a far before going over. I sat in front of him, leaning back into his warmth. My apartment never felt so much like home as this night. He played with my hair, rubbed my shoulders, kissed my neck and told me how soft my skin was.

After about an hour of this, I had my finger on my clit. He could see very well what I was doing so I made sure he enjoyed the show.

He eventually told me to stand up and bend over. When I did, his tongue found my ass. He alternated between kissing, licking, slapping, and tongue fucking. I could feel my wetness running down my inner thigh.

He motioned for me to sit back down and drink some more while watching the show. We laughed and drank and I continued to touch myself, starved for him in the most glorious way.

I got up to refresh our drinks. When I came back I didn’t sit, I knelt before him and unveiled his cock. It had a bead of pre-cum flooding the tip. I lightly touched it with my tongue and the slick fluid stretched as I pulled away. His cock raged even harder. I took it in my mouth and he gasped.

I tried to trace the shape of the head of his cock with my mouth. To reintroduce it to my mouth. Memorize every vein and curve, the hard delicate skin. I kissed it then took it in, licked the length of his shaft and circled the head, such an intricate bundle of nerves.

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