A nor’easter — a blizzard with hurricane-force winds was fast approaching. The forecast said it would start Friday afternoon and tear through most of the city. The storm started earlier than expected that Friday morning with freezing rain. It was a miserable day. A day to make a hot soup and stay in.
I ran around getting dressed like a crazy person, my casual sexy outfit changed to blizzard wear, because I was going — despite the distance and the weather — to meet the Terminator. It had been a month since I had had sex and I couldn’t take it anymore. I broke down and emailed him and here we were, meeting a few days later.
Suddenly my phone trilled with a text alert. It was him, offering to cancel if I wanted to because of the weather. “I haven’t been laid in a month,” I responded. “Hell no.” I’m not exactly coy. I was concerned about being able to get there and back before the storm got seriously bad. Our meeting would have to be brief, and I was annoyed. Brief for us is 2 to 3 hours. Normal is 4 and up. But I digress. I slipped into my snow gear and hurried out into the cold.
Terminator opened the door and kissed me hello. He helped me hang up my wet things and as he followed me up the stairs, I turned to glance at him and his eyes were on my ass and legs. We were chatted about the email in which I sent him explaining that I had permission to fuck around. He asked me how long I had waited before contacting him.
“A month” I responded.
“A month isn’t bad,” he said, laughing.
“Shut up,” I said, laughing too. He took me in his arms and started kissing me, as we sank onto the bed. We took our time, making out, hugging, holding each other, nuzzling, biting each other, inhaling and really appreciating each other. After all, we both thought the last time was the last time.
I smiled as he lay me on the bed and carefully undressed me, kissing my body as he went. Soft kisses at the base of my throat, trailing down to my belly-button as he undid my blouse. Soft licks and kisses to the inside of my wrist, elbow and shoulder as he removed my blouse. Then my mouth again, as he unbuttoned and unzipped my pants. He slid off my pants and panties, and then…
His smooth cheek against my inner thigh as he bends to kiss my pussy. He licks me softly, teasing the pleasure, the desire, out of me, becoming more insistent as my hips moved against him, seeking more pleasure. His lips surround my clit and stay there, while his tongue softly teases harder and more insistently until I explode, grinding against him, moaning, panting, and screaming. Oh yeah.
We kissed and I tasted myself on his lips. He got in bed with me and our limbs tangled around each other in the afterglow. The snow was falling heavily outside, but we were all warm and cozy. We smiled and laughed. “So I get you for six months,” he said. “What am I going to do with you for six months?”
“Anything you want,” I said. Pretty much. He knows what my limits are and I trust him with that.
“We’re going to be seeing each other more often now”, he said, kissing my neck, my breasts.
“Is that a fact?” I say. He smiles. We have six months to play and we’re going to make the most of it.
His long beautiful cock slides into me and pussy sucks him in like she’s been waiting for him for ages. We start fucking slowly, aware of every move and sensation, incredulous at how amazingly good it feels. As he slides more deeply into me, I can’t get over how good it feels, how amazing yet how right, a combination of satisfaction and hunger. Oh yes, yes. More. Deeper. Harder. Yes ooohhhh yes. I’m on a cloud of horny bliss as he starts pounding me (how I needed it, god!) and we’re moaning, howling together it’s so good, when he stops pumping and says:
“What are you thinking right now?”
What? What the fuck???? I hope the total panic I feel isn’t noticeable on my face. “That you belong inside me,” I say. True enough. He says nothing (interesting), and we continue fucking, amazingly as always.
But haven’t we talked about this? Aren’t we agreed that it can’t work between us??? Isn’t he still fucking other women? Hell there was a box someone’s perfume on the bureau across the room (this had never happened before. there was never a trace of anyone else in the house). And he’s asking me what I’m thinking? Why? And if he does want something more serious, why not come out and say it? He knows how I feel, I never hid it from him. I have six months to figure it out.