What are you doing tonight?
Meh. Nothing. Why?
I need you inside me.
I decided, for that night, I wouldn’t care.
For tonight, he didn’t have a girlfriend. For tonight, I didn’t have a wife. For tonight, his dick was all that mattered.
As soon as he opened the door, my hands were at his belt. He managed to close it before I exposed him to any snooping neighbors.
Immediately I was on my knees sucking him off.
“What, no hello?”
I ignored his humour. Tonight wasn’t about conversation. It wasn’t about our long talks about nothing, our non-flirting, or the way he ignored my desire for eye contact. Tonight was about his cock inside me.
Soon he was hard, his hand behind my head guiding my mouth.
“Fuck, I missed your mouth.”
With a last lazy lick up his shaft, I stood, my body leaning into his, his back pressed against the wall.
“My mouth missed your cock. Well my mouth, and other various parts of my body.”
I stroked him, massaging him hard, keeping him up. It wouldn’t do to have him…relax.
He tried to kiss me, but I shied away. He attempted again. And again. I kept him at bay.
“Still such a fucking tease.”
“Still such a fucking pussy.”
I kissed him hard, shoving my tongue down his throat, letting him taste his cock still on my breath. His hands slipped into my jeans, gripped my ass, and eased a finger to where I wanted him most.
“There is the asshole I so love to fuck. Did it miss me too?”
“It missed you most.”
He bit my neck. My hand reflexively squeezed his cock harder.
“I think my ass is ready for you, and you are most certainly ready for it.”
Gripping my hips, he pushed me back against his couch. Flinging me around, he slid his hands around my waist and unzipped. Pulling down my jeans, he followed the path of the fabric. Kneeling, I felt his lips on my cheeks. Separating them, he licked and licked my asshole, getting me good and wet for him.
I heard the condom wrapper ripe, then felt his cock’s head press against my hole.
And then he was inside me. With a deep sigh, I relished the familiar feel of his cock so far in me. He fucked me hard against his couch. I pushed back, always wanting more of him.
Sweaty, breathing heavy, we fucked like we had so many times before: rough, grunting thrusts mixed with over-the-back kisses, ass smacks, and my hands on his ass pulling him into me.
And when we came together, we both bit into the other’s flesh, marking what was ours.
Finished, I pulled up my jeans and left. He started to say something, but I departed before his sentence ended.
I didn’t want to look at him, hug or kiss him. I didn’t want to say goodbye. I couldn’t say goodbye. Because I knew I wouldn’t have had the strength to have left.
Comments are disabled on this post