tagRomanceEarly Arrival

Early Arrival

bywildest1©

I arrive at his house, early. He told me if I did, to go in. I hesitate, though, and walk around outside for a bit. I feel a bit nervous to go in without him there. After nearly a half hour, however, I give up and decide at least I could go in and relax a little until he arrives.

After finding the key where he said it would be, I open the door, then re-hide the key and slip inside.

Smiling, looking around, I am glad I accepted the invitation, feeling his presence already. Remembering his words about helping myself to a drink, I wander to the kitchen, and open the refrigerator. A beer sounds fine. Reaching for one, I look for a kitchen towel to wrap over the cap so I can untwist it painlessly. I'm impressed, it's a good tasting beer, but then I knew it would be. Somehow I feel a bit naughty, being in his world in his absence. Still, I wander, and take in photographs, miscellaneous items left out in haste, or for display. I don't open anything, I just observe. Coming to his bedroom, I look in, inhaling his scent, lingering here in his space. Smiling, I can't resist the desire to lie on his bed, still unmade, seeing exactly where his body rested. We haven't yet been intimate, but the attraction to him is immense, and undeniable to me.

Setting the beer on the nightstand on top of a cd case so it won't leave a ring, I slide onto the bed on my stomach, burying my face in his pillow. Inhaling deeply, endlessly, moaning with pleasure at what I find, laughing softly. The half beer I've already consumed seems to have raced straight to my head. Or perhaps it is the giddy pleasure of being in his bed.

I imagine sleeping here...will it be tonight that he brings me here, or will we even make it that far? Or maybe I should have better control over my needs. I don't really care, right now, I'm in a blissful place, surrounded by his scent, knowing that he sleeps here. Perhaps....No, pushing aside that thought, but unable to completely banish the idea of him lying here, stroking his cock. I imagine then that he is here, making love to me, lying beside me. I hear his breathing quicken, his heartbeat intensify.

My hand reaches behind me, into the waistband of my jeans, slipping down over my ass crack, sliding down further, fingertips over top of my hot opening. I let my middle fingertip circle there, rimming the lips surrounding the entrance, imagining you doing these things, here, in your bed. So turned on by the thought of you lying here, naked, sleeping, or awake...awake....making love to me.

That thought elicits a deep groan as I slide a finger into my cunt and lift my ass, fucking motions against and with my hand, my breathing deep, ragged, desirous.

The delightful mixture of his scent that fills my senses as I muffle my moans in his pillow further inflames me, my movements increase in speed; I imagine his hands on me, that thought alone...and his whispers. I start to cum, the cries of passion loud, intense, muffled by his pillow, sure, but I'm glad I'm alone. Practically sobbing with pleasure, I let my body relax, my hand still cupping my mound, easing my weight to the bed, my head turned to the side, eyes closed, a smile gracing my lips. I sigh, languorously, and lie there a while, reaching for the beer slowly to quench my thirst, drinking several swallows, then setting it back on the nightstand.

I hear a soft sound, more like a rustling, and I look back towards the door.

He is standing there, leaning against the door jamb, a beer in his hand, a smile at his lips. Our gazes meet, and I feel the deep blush spread over my face, the shock race through already overloaded nerves. I sit up, on my knees, and look down at my lap, fumbling for anything to say, wishing I could just make a break for the door. How could I have done such a stupid thing?

"Zack...I'm...." And then he is at my side, sitting next to me on the bed, a hand on my shoulder.

A soft chuckle, a stroking squeeze of my shoulder, soothing voice reassuring me, "Don't worry about it...I...should have made my presence known earlier. But you looked so beautiful...I had to stop myself from getting in with you."

I am speechless, and turn to him, throwing my arms around him. "I didn't mean to...it's just....being here..in your bed...I'm sorry."

He laughs again, but warmly, pulling me close, kissing me firmly, leaving little doubt about the needless apologies I attempt. Instead of feeling sorry, I find myself gasping for air, heart leaping through my chest, moving beneath him without a doubt knowing I have to have him, soon...now.

His kiss is intense, like him, his eyes already gave me these clues, my mouth yields to his, exactly as the rest of my body needs to yield to his. His hands now entwined in my hair, they transmit electricity to me, which seems to reach some deepest center of me and then rebound, intensifying, speeding back, absorbed, reflected by him, and poured back through and over me.

Drowning in it, but impossible, for it is not a liquid; more a thick atmosphere. It glitters and shimmers about us, every breath, every motion sends rippling shockwaves through it. I'd believe it was the beer getting to me, but I know better. I've never felt this way before.

My hands rise to cup his face, to draw him closer, to convey my hunger for him. I raise my body beneath him, invitingly, the firm pressure of his against mine ignites that certainty that causes the juices to trickle within me, knowing that nothing now will keep me from having his cock in me, from feeling him cum in me, in his firm embrace, his breaths coming hard and fast.

His hands now move to push my shirt open, deftly unbuttoning it, hands sliding over my breasts, his thumbs pass over my nipples, I gasp even with his mouth over mine. We're both in a rush, my hands fumble now with the sudden raging wildfire of need at his pants, opening them, pushing them down. I open my eyes to find his burning into mine, blue lasers direct from his soul. He wants to take his time, but can't, not now. My eyelids lower softly, a gentle blink of acknowledgment, as if I could slow my own lust.

Just how did he get my pants off and down so quickly? I spread my legs, wrapping them around his torso, knowing he feels the blazing heat of my sex even through my panties, through his shirt, which I now pull off of him, throwing it aside as he removes my bra, exposing my nipples to his fingers, they roll each, and cup my breasts with gentle but firm squeezes.

He dips his head now to my neck, left gasping by the kiss, I blink suddenly, trying to catch up to the headlong rush of desire. He nibbles there, kisses, nuzzles and sighs, moans, the heat of his breath, the sound of his low, beautiful voice brings me to an arching, seeking lifting breasts to his mouth.

He pauses, then dips his mouth to suckle first one then the other, eliciting soft cries of delight from parted lips. I feel his hand next, through the thin, damp cotton of my panties, his heat could it be possible seems to outburn mine, feed it, increase it. Orgasm claims me from the coolness of the room to the icy heat of its ocean, swells of pleasure rise through me, his hand firmly squeezing, lips and tongue working my nipples, seem to suck the heat through me from my cunt, my breathing suspends, caught, my heartbeat quivers then becomes the center of a starburst explosion, I distantly hear my urgent cries.

My hands, fingers clutch at his shoulders, squeezing into his flesh as if to maintain my grasp on this world, but I know better. For he is as transitory as I am just now, an existence ethereal, defined by this moment.

I feel his cock enter me, then, he having pushed aside my panties to achieve entry, the spreading heat pushing into me even as it contracts wetly. I gasp and cry out as it stretches me open, fills me, my muscles clench at him, drawing him in with ferocious need. He plunges into me to the hilt, the hesitation there, is it imagined, or does it truly exist, as the world stops spinning, every thing around us suspends and bursts with life, and its joys. I gasp inward to fill the glowing void with his aura, his essence, the very atmosphere around him. I throw my head back, pressing my shoulders to the bed, completely taken by release, my legs lifted, grasping him, drawing him harder, closer to me, feeling his own release as it erupts within me, setting off shockwaves of orgasm with every pulsing explosion of his cum. It is a struggle of life and death, somehow that vital, that intense, that mysterious. I grasp his shoulders, his arms and tears leak from squeezed shut eyes, which next open unto a bright mystery into which I've arrived at his urging. I know I don't belong here, but am filled with that joyous glee of something precious, something illicit...an amazing place, where I feel perfect, where I see perfection, where love is all that exists, it is the air I breathe, the fabric of this place. And yet I am in his arms, my eyes looking into his, feeling somewhat dimmed, but seeing also the reflection within his that shows me I am anything but dim: radiant with life.

He lies on me, carefully, seems he is afraid to let his weight rest fully on me, and I pull him against me, it seems nothing, rather I love the way it presses our flesh together, his head at my shoulder, near my ear, panting breaths, happy sighs and moans, loving soft sounds, his voice is like a velvety liquid I can bathe myself in, inside and out. Our skin sticky-slick with well-earned moisture.

We drowse this way, smiles and sated sighs passing the minutes until we can fulfill a promise, a lingering lovemaking desired by both, yet unable to be fulfilled until this intense, primal need was quenched. I suppose I knew, all along, that this was how I wanted this time with him to be. The rest will happen anyway...the conversation, the times spent together, sharing, experiencing life.

I smile past him in the dimness of the room, to the brightness of our future.

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