The glass was ice-cold against my forehead as I pressed against it, my gaze fixed through the transparent wall on the arrival hall. The monotonous rolling of suitcases, the hum of the ventilation, the muffled announcements — everything blurred into a single background noise, drowned out by the pounding of my heart. Then I saw him. The blue wool sweater I had given him for his last birthday, the slightly tousled dark hair, the tired gait — but a smile that cut right through me and dissolved the months of silence in seconds.
I tore myself away from the glass, bumped into a woman with a stroller, murmured an apology, and ran. He had spotted me, simply let go of his rolling suitcase, and caught me. The familiar warmth of his arms, the smell of airplane air and his deodorant — I buried my face in the crook of his neck and breathed deeply, drinking in his scent like a life-giving sap.
“Hey,” he whispered hoarsely.
“Hey yourself.” I pulled back and looked at him. The little wrinkles around his eyes had deepened, but his gaze was the same: searching, hungry, full of tenderness. “I missed you so much.”
The Urge to Feel You
His hand settled on the back of my neck, his fingers cool from the rain outside. He pulled me close and kissed me. It wasn’t a gentle welcome kiss. It was a kiss that dissolved three months of silence, three months of only a voice from the speaker, three months of an empty bed in a single touch. His tongue found mine, demanding yet tender, and I felt the tension of the last weeks fall away from me. My knees grew weak, my lower abdomen tightened hotly. I felt my pussy getting wet, a warm pulsation spreading between my legs.
“Let’s get out of here,” I gasped between two kisses. My voice was barely more than a pant, filled with unquenched lust.
He nodded, grabbed my hand, and pulled me to the taxi stand. The ride was torture. His thigh pressed against mine, his hand rested on my knee and slowly crept higher while the driver chatted about traffic and weather. I bit my lip and stared out the window as his fingers stroked the sensitive skin on the inside of my thigh. Each touch sent a hot pull through my lower abdomen, making my pussy even wetter. I opened my legs a crack, letting him come closer. His thumb brushed over the fabric of my jeans, right over my clit, and I sharply sucked in air.
“Soon,” he murmured barely audibly, his voice rough with desire. His fingers pressed harder on the sensitive spot, and I felt a shiver of pleasure shoot through me.
The hotel lobby was bright and sterile, but as soon as the room door clicked shut, everything changed. He tossed the bag carelessly onto the floor and turned me around to face him. His hands gripped my hips, pulling me against him. I felt his arousal through the fabric of his pants, hard and demanding, a thick cock pressing against my pelvis.
“I can’t take it anymore,” he groaned, kissing my neck, the spot right below my ear that he knew so well. His tongue traced over my skin, leaving a wet trail.
I let my head fall back and enjoyed the feeling of his lips on my skin. My fingers buried themselves in his hair, pulling him closer. “Then do something about it,” I breathed, my voice a hoarse whisper full of desire.
The Clothes Fall
He didn’t need much urging. With an impatience that excited me, he tugged at my sweater, still kissing me as the fabric flew over my head. My bra followed almost immediately, and I stood before him, only in jeans, letting his gaze glide over my breasts. My nipples were hard, little sensitive buds aching for his touch. He took a step back, his eyes dark with desire.
“God, you’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice full of awe and hunger.
His hands cupped my breasts, his thumbs stroking over the hard tips. A shiver of pleasure ran through me, and I let out a soft moan. He leaned forward and took one nipple into his mouth, sucking gently while his fingers massaged and twisted the other. I grabbed his head, holding him tight as waves of heat pulsed through my body. My legs began to tremble, and I felt my pussy overflowing with wetness, warm juice moistening my thighs.
I pushed him away, enough. My hands found the hem of his sweater, pulling it up. He helped me, stripping off the garment and then stood before me with a bare chest. The muscles under the pale skin, the light hair on his chest — everything familiar yet so new. I let my fingers wander over his chest, feeling his heart race, while my other hand traveled lower, over his stomach, to the bulge in his pants.
“Come here,” I said, pulling him toward the bed. He followed me, letting me push him onto the mattress. I straddled him, feeling his hardness beneath me. Through the denim fabric, I rubbed against him, slowly, savoringly, letting my wet slit glide over the bulge. He groaned, his hands digging into my hips, pressing me harder against him.
“I want to feel you,” he panted, his voice hoarse with lust.
I stood up, unbuttoned my jeans, and let them slide over my hips. The panties followed, and I stood naked before him. My gaze met his, and I saw his eyes wander over my body, lingering on the wet spot between my legs, the moist slit opening before him. He licked his lips, and I felt a shiver of excitement shoot through me.
“Turn around,” he asked hoarsely. I obeyed, turning my back to him, bending forward slightly and supporting myself on the bed. I heard him open his pants, the rustle of the belt, the soft click of the buckle. Then I felt his hands on my ass, gently stroking the curves as I arched my ass upward slightly. A finger slid between my legs, found me wet and ready, glided over my moist labia and dipped into my pussy. I moaned loudly as he stretched me with one finger, then with two.
“So hot,” he murmured, and I felt the tip of his cock at my entrance, the broad head pressing against my opening. He didn’t push in immediately, letting me feel the tension, the anticipation. I pressed back against him, demanding him to take me, my pussy aching to be filled.
Voices from the community
No voices yet — be the first to say what turned you on.
