The ringing pulls me from a novel—ten o’clock at night, no one announced. When I open the door, he’s standing there, suitcase in hand, a smile that steals my breath. Three years have passed since I first saw him in the rain outside a café in Lisbon—his blond hair dripping wet, those green eyes so intense that I held my breath. Now, after six months of a long-distance relationship between Berlin and New York, he’s suddenly here. No warning, no message. Just him.
“Jonas? What are you doing here?” My voice sounds hoarse, almost choked.
“I had to see you. This weekend—it’s all we have.”
He steps inside, drops the suitcase, and his arms close around me. I smell the plane, the jet lag, but also his familiar scent of cedarwood and salt. My hands bury themselves in his hair, and I feel the months of waiting fall away from me like old skin.
The First Touch
We stand in the hallway, the door clicking shut. His lips find mine, and it’s no gentle kiss—it’s a devouring, a catching up on all the missed kisses. His tongue pushes into my mouth, and I taste the airport coffee, the sweetness of anticipation. I press against him, feel his arousal already through the fabric of his jeans. My fingers fumble at his shirt, pulling it from his waistband, while he unbuttons my blouse, button by button, with a patience that drives me crazy.
“I’ve missed you so much,” he whispers between kisses, his lips trailing down my neck, leaving a path of fire.
“Show me,” I breathe, and I hear my own desire in my voice, rough and impatient.
He lifts me up, my legs wrapping around his hips, and he carries me into the bedroom. The mattress bounces as he lays me down, and I look up at him as he leans over me, the streetlight casting shadows on his face. His hands slide under my skirt, stroking the inside of my thighs, and I tremble at the touch, so familiar yet so new.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, as his fingers move higher, brushing over the fabric of my panties. I bite my lip as he increases the pressure, making circular motions that already leave me breathless.
“Only for you,” I reply, lifting my hips to give him more access.
He pushes my panties aside and slides a finger inside me, slow, savoring. I gasp as he stretches me, my hands clawing at the sheets. “I want to taste you,” he says, pulling his finger back and bringing it to his mouth. The sight of him sucking on his finger makes me shudder.
Then he bends down, his tongue finding my mound, and I forget to breathe. He kisses me there, first gently, then more demandingly, his tongue dipping into my folds, circling my clit with a precision that makes me moan. My fingers bury themselves in his hair, and I press him harder against me as he pleasures me with his mouth and chin.
“Jonas… I…” I stammer as the tension builds inside me.
He doesn’t answer, but redoubles his efforts, sucking on the most sensitive spot until I come with a cry, my pelvis thrusting toward him. He doesn’t let go, but licks me through the climax until I sink down, exhausted.
The Longing Unleashed
He pulls off my skirt, then my panties, slowly, as if savoring every moment. I lie naked before him, my body yearning for his skin. He bends down, his tongue finding my belly button, circling it, while his fingers stroke my breasts, rubbing my nipples into hard peaks. A moan escapes me, and I reach for his belt, unfastening it with trembling hands.
“I want to feel you,” I say, my voice barely a croak.
He straightens up, strips off his jeans and boxers, and his cock stands erect, the glans glistening in the dim light. I part my lips to take him, but he shakes his head.
“Not now. I want to be inside you, to feel all of you.”
He comes over me, his knees pushing my thighs apart, and I feel the tip at my entrance, hesitating for just a moment, then he pushes in. It’s a pain of stretching, mixed with a wave of fulfillment that washes through me. I close my eyes, focusing on the feeling of him inside me—the warmth, the fullness, the movement as he begins to rock within me.
“Look at me,” he whispers, and I obey, meeting his gaze. In his eyes lies all the longing of the past months, and I mirror it back.
“I’ve dreamed of feeling you like this,” I confess, my voice fragile with emotion.
“Me too. Every night.” He lowers his head and kisses me, thrusting slowly into me, a rhythm that unites us both.
The Rhythm of Union
His thrusts are slow at first, deep, each one a small prayer. I lift my hips, taking him deeper, and my breath becomes shallow. My nails dig into his back, and I feel the sweat mingling on our skin. He changes the angle, and suddenly he hits a spot inside me that makes me cry out, an uncontrollable sound from deep within.
“There?” he asks, his smile wicked.
“Yes, right there—don’t stop.”
He speeds up, his breathing heavy, and I feel the tension in his thighs. My hands move to his face, stroking his cheekbones, and I kiss him as he takes me. The outside world ceases to exist—only this room, his body, my pleasure building like a tide.
I feel myself getting closer, the muscles in my pelvis starting to twitch. He feels it too, because he moans, pressing deeper, and I crash against the wall of arousal, breaking through, and the orgasms roll through me, wave after wave. I scream his name, my legs closing around him, and I feel him come, hot and pulsing, his groan vibrating in my mouth.
We lie still, entwined, until our breathing calms. He kisses my forehead, and I snuggle against him, feeling his heart beat against mine.
The Silence After
We lie there, tangled together, the sweat drying on our skin. He kisses my shoulder, and I feel tears unexpectedly running down my cheeks. He lifts my chin, wiping them away.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, concerned.
“Nothing. I just missed you so much. It’s just… overwhelming.”
He pulls me closer, and I snuggle against him.
Voices from the community
No voices yet — be the first to say what turned you on.
