The smell of rain on his skin was the first thing Lara noticed as she opened the door. Ben stood in the dim light of the hallway, his shoulders slightly damp from the drizzle that had been hanging over the city for hours. His smile was tired, but his eyes – those eyes she had only seen on screens in recent months – burned with an intensity that took her breath away. She could smell the damp scent of his leather jacket, mixed with the earthy smell of wet asphalt and that one hint of cedarwood and salt that belonged only to him. Her pulse raced as she closed the door behind him, and the silence between them grew heavy with all the unspoken words, the 147 days and nights full of longing.
“Hey,” he said softly, and that single word made her pussy throb with desire. She hadn’t seen him, felt him, tasted him in so long. Her hands trembled as she turned to him. He put down his bag, slowly, almost hesitantly, but she could see the hardness in his eyes, the fever burning inside him. She raised her hand and placed it on his cheek. His skin was cool from the rain, but beneath it pulsed a heat that radiated straight into her lap. He closed his eyes and leaned into her palm, a silent admission of how much he had missed this. “I can’t believe you’re finally here,” she whispered, her voice rough with lust.
He opened his eyes, and the look he gave her was so direct, so unfiltered, that she felt naked before him, even though she was still fully clothed. “Me neither,” he said, his voice rougher than on the phone, a deep, vibrating tone that echoed directly in her wet cunt. “I’ve dreamed so often of touching you… and now…” He fell silent as his fingers brushed her neck, gentle but demanding. Lara felt her skin heat up under his touch, her nipples hardening and pressing against the fabric of her bra. Months of abstinence, months of only having his voice and his image, broke through in a wave of greed. She pulled him closer, pressing her lips to his without hesitation.
The kiss was not tender, not tentative – it was hungry, demanding, a reclamation. His tongue found hers, and she tasted the coffee he must have had at the station and something sweet, maybe gum. She dug her fingers into his wet hair as he grabbed her hips and pushed her against the door. The coolness of the wood against her back was a sharp contrast to the heat rising between them. She felt his erection through the fabric of his jeans, thick and hard, pressing against her belly, and she moaned softly into his mouth. She wanted him, now, immediately, to feel every inch of his cock inside her.
“I want to feel you,” she said, the words coming out hoarser than she intended. “Every inch. I want your cock inside me. Now.”
He took her hand and led her into the living room, his fingers tight around hers, as if afraid she might disappear. The room was only dimly lit by a floor lamp casting a warm, golden light. Rain ran down the windowpanes, a soft drumming that filled the silence. They stood before each other, and Lara began to unbutton his shirt, button by button, slowly, savoring it. She took her time, letting her fingertips glide over the bare skin that emerged from beneath the fabric. His chest was firm, the muscles beneath his skin tensing as she touched him. She ran her fingers over the light hair on his sternum, down to his stomach, where the skin grew softer. Ben audibly inhaled as her hand wandered lower, over the edge of his pants, and she felt his cock twitch beneath the fabric.
“You’re driving me crazy,” he murmured, reaching for the hem of her dress. It was a simple black dress she had deliberately chosen this morning – easy to open, easy to take off. He pulled it over her head, and she stood before him in black lace lingerie. His gaze darkened, almost black with desire. “God, Lara. You’re so beautiful. Your tits, your body – I want to fuck you until you scream.”
She blushed under his gaze, but not from shame. It was the intensity with which he looked at her, as if he wanted to absorb every millimeter. She stepped out of her shoes as he unbuttoned his pants and pushed them down his legs with an impatient motion. His boxers strained over his erection, a damp spot at the tip where his cock was already leaking pre-cum. Then they stood there – only the thin fabric between them. Lara wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into another kiss, this time deeper, more probing. She felt his hands on her back, as he unfastened her bra, pushed the straps off her shoulders. The cool air hit her breasts, and she moaned softly as his lips wandered down her neck, over her collarbone, lower, until he took her hard nipple into his mouth.
His tongue played with it, first gently, then harder, while his hand massaged the other breast. Lara buried her fingers in his hair as waves of sensation coursed through her. She was already wet, she could feel it, the heat gathering between her legs, her panties already soaked. “Ben,” she breathed, her body trembling under his touch. He switched to the other breast, his tongue drawing wet circles, while his fingers pushed down her panties. The fabric fell to the floor, and she stood naked before him, while he still knelt, his mouth on her breast, his hands on her thighs. He slid his hand between her legs, and his fingers found her wet, hot slit. He stroked her labia, gathering her moisture, and Lara moaned loudly.
“God, you’re so wet,” he said, his voice hoarse with arousal. “So horny for me. I can taste your juice on my fingers.” He inserted a finger into her, slowly, deep, and her body arched toward him. She was tight, hot, and she felt her muscles clench around him. “Yes, deeper,” she moaned, and he obeyed, adding a second finger, stretching her, while his thumb circled her clit. She felt her arousal building, a wave rising inside her, but she wanted more, she wanted his cock.
He looked up, his eyes dark with desire. “I thought of you every night,” he said. “Of your taste. Of how you sound when I touch you. Of how your cunt wraps around my fingers.” His voice was hoarse, and the words hit her right in the center of her being.
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