“I’ll be there in five minutes.” His voice sounds hoarse, breathless, as if he’s thought of nothing else the entire drive. I stare at the screen, my heart hammering against my ribs, and between my legs that familiar, hot throbbing begins. We haven’t seen each other in four months—four months where I often helped myself, eyes closed, imagining him taking me. And now he’s suddenly at the door. I only got a short message: “Surprise. I’m at the airport.” No time to prepare, no time to think. Just this hot pull in my belly—no, not a pull. A burn. A craving I’d almost forgotten in the long lonely nights. My cunt already feels wet, just at the thought of him.
I open the door, and there he is. Jonas. His shoulders are broader than I remember, his beard a bit longer, but his eyes—those fucking eyes—are even hungrier. He smiles, but there’s something hard in his eyes, something that makes it instantly clear: He wants me. Now. “Hey,” he says softly and steps inside without touching me. The air between us crackles—I know I shouldn’t use that word, but it’s there. That tension that almost crushes me, that makes my nipples hard before he even touches me. He sets down his bag and looks at me as if seeing me for the first time—as if he wants to undress me with just his gaze.
“I couldn’t wait any longer,” he says. His gaze wanders over my face, lingers on my lips, then travels lower, to my breasts pressing against the thin fabric of my top. “The last few months have been hell.” He pauses, his tongue briefly flicking over his lower lip. “I dreamed of you. Every night. Of your mouth, your cunt, your ass.”
I nod. Words fail me. Instead, I step toward him, place my hand on his chest. His heart beats as fast as mine, I feel the heat radiating from him. “I missed you so much,” I whisper, and then he kisses me.
It’s not a gentle kiss. It’s a hungry, demanding kiss that steals my breath. His hands bury themselves in my hair, pulling my head back while his tongue parts my lips and thrusts into my mouth as if he wants to fuck me right now. I taste coffee and something sweet—gum, maybe. And beneath it, that unmistakable taste of him that I’ve missed so much, mixed with the salty taste of sweat and desire.
I press against him, feel his hard body through the denim of his jeans. His cock presses against my belly, long and thick, and I can’t help but moan. My hands travel down, over his belt, and I press my palm against his erection. He flinches, moans into my mouth. “Fuck, you feel good,” he murmurs, and I feel him grow even harder.
His hands slide down, grip my ass, pull me tight against him. He kneads my ass cheeks, his fingers digging into the flesh, and I feel him grinding me against his hard cock. I moan into his mouth, and he chuckles softly. “I have plans for you,” he murmurs between kisses. “Big plans. I’m going to fuck you so hard you forget your own name. I’m going to lick you until you scream, and then I’m going to fuck your ass until you come.”
His words hit me like a blow, and between my legs it grows even wetter. I can feel my cunt starting to pulse, aching for him. “Yes,” I whisper. “Do it. Please.”
He pulls me into the bedroom without letting me go. I stumble backwards, his lips on my neck, his teeth scraping gently over my skin, then harder, until I feel the slight burn. He’ll leave a mark on me, and I want it. I want him to brand me, so everyone knows I belong to him. I want more. I want everything at once.
The First Touch
He pushes me onto the bed, his body over mine, heavy and hot. His fingers unbutton my shirt, slowly, agonizingly slowly. Each button a small promise, each exposed patch of skin a new target for his mouth. I lift my hips as he pulls the fabric out from under me, and then my upper body lies naked before him. His breath catches.
“Fuck, how I’ve missed you,” he says, his voice rough, almost hoarse with desire. He leans down, takes my nipple into his mouth. I gasp as his tongue circles it, first gently, then harder. He sucks, bites lightly, and I feel it shoot straight to my cunt. His hand finds my other breast, massages it, pinches the hard nipple between thumb and forefinger while he sucks until I writhe beneath him.
“Jonas, please,” I beg. I don’t even know what I’m begging for. More? Faster? Just for him to stop torturing me with this agonizing slowness, to finally take me as hard as I need it.
He lifts his head, looks at me. His eyes are dark, pupils dilated, and I see pure lust in them. “I want to taste you,” he says. “Everywhere. I want to feel your cunt on my tongue. I want to drink your juices until you tremble.”
He slides down, unbuttons my pants, pulls zipper and fabric over my hips. I help him, unashamed of how I lie there, only in a sheer thong already dark with my wetness. With one grab, he tears the fabric. The material rips, and I gasp.
“I’ll buy you a new one,” he murmurs, and then his mouth is between my legs.
The first contact of his tongue is electric. No, not electric—it’s like a shock that shoots through my entire body, that burns me from the inside out. I cry out softly as he licks me, first hesitantly, then more assertively. He finds my clit immediately, that small, hard pearl, and works it with circular motions while his fingers slide inside me. First one, then two, stretching and twisting inside me while his tongue keeps working.
I’m already wet, ready for him. My juice runs over his fingers, over his chin, and he moans as he tastes it. “Fuck, you taste so good,” he says, and I feel his tongue penetrate deeper, as if he wants to lick me from the inside. “I could stay here for hours, licking your cunt until you come, and then again.”
“Do it,” I moan, but he shakes his head. His fingers work faster, deeper, and I feel the tension building inside me.
“Later. Now I want to be inside you.”
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