Heat Wave

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One hot afternoon in an airport parking garage.
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I still remember vividly the first time I saw him. I had waited anxiously outside the red door in the Bush Intercontinental Airport for more than an hour. Until now, he existed for me purely in photos, as a voice on the phone, and typed words across a screen. I knew only that he would be wearing a green t-shirt and jeans. I paced and worried, worried and paced, my eyes never leaving that door to Customs. God, would he approve of me?

We had met three months earlier on the Internet because I had made up my mind that I would never marry another American man. After spending time in the Republic of Ireland and Northern Ireland and having friends from England, I knew that either the Republic of Ireland or the U.K. would be the place for me, so I decided to browse through the AOL personals and see what England had to offer. There he was…a nice smile and big brown eyes. I sent him e-mail, and he replied. It wasn’t long until we were talking on the phone and falling hard for each other. Before he came to Texas, his first trip to America, we dabbled a few times in phone sex, but for the most part, we decided to wait for the real thing. And now, I was well aware that the real thing was about to walk through those double, red doors. Moments later, he did.

I called to him. He looked in my direction, smiled. I walked quickly to him, and he hugged me, kissed me on the cheek. Then we practiced small talk on the way through the airport and to the parking garage.

My car was parked in a dark, rather deserted area of the garage. Inside the car, he leaned across and kissed my mouth for the first time. My heart raced. I had a summer dress on, and I felt his hand brush across my bare knee while our tongues touched. The day was hot, humid, and I felt perspiration start to trickle down my forehead. We pulled away from each other, eyed the empty garage around us, and then looked back at each other. He leaned toward me again, his hand caressing my arm, then my breast.

“Wait,” I whispered. I pulled the keys from my purse, started the car, and turned the air conditioner on. Too much of this without any air would surely kill us both! Moments later, we were well into it.

His mouth moved from my lips to my throat, and any man who has ever been intimate with me knows that my throat is the key to my heart. Start there, and you will gain access to everything! I ran my hand across his chest and down to this belt where I fumbled a moment, then finally unbuckled the thing. Urgently, I pulled his shirt up and out of his jeans. I wanted to feel the warmth of his stomach, the hair across his chest. He leaned hard against me, his breath growing fast and shallow. I pushed him back against the door and planted quick little kisses across his stomach, my mouth moving ever closer to the half-open zipper. Lightly, I ran my hand across that wonderfully hard expanse that threatened to burst the seams of those jeans, and I felt myself grow wet from the desire to feel him inside of me.

He ran his hands across and through my hair, pushed my head down. I looked into his eyes and saw that he very much approved of me so far. I unzipped his jeans and pulled them down with his briefs. And suddenly, there it was! That beautiful cock I had seen only in pictures was right before my eyes…and mouth. I wrapped my hand around it, applying light pressure. My mouth found his balls, sucked them in, first one, then the other, then both together. I heard him moan. As I pumped his cock with my hand, I moved my mouth lower, beneath his balls, and tongued his anus. I pushed his legs farther apart, running my nails lightly across his thighs. The goose bumps were my proof that I was doing everything right.

“God, please put your mouth on me!” he pleaded. I looked up into his horny, glazed eyes and smiled before poising my mouth over the head of his cock. I ran my tongue slowly around the tip.

“Is this what you want?” I whispered.

“Yes,” he moaned. “Oh, yes.”

I lowered my mouth around the head, suckled it gently for a moment, then more urgently. My tongue moved wildly up and down the head and over that sensitive place on the underside that lies just below the head. He was pumping my mouth hard now, and I could taste the pre-cum. Delicious! I pulled away from him.

“I want you inside of me.” He was in the passenger seat, so I reached across him and pulled the lever to lower the back of his seat. “Open your door,” I demanded.

As he did so, I pulled my panties off and tossed them into the back seat. I slid one leg across him and out the door, my foot on the ground for leverage. I faced him, felt his breath on my face, my neck. He cupped both my breasts in his hands, and I bent over to kiss him.

“Fuck me!” I whispered into his ear.

He reached down between us, found my clit, and began to roll it between his fingers. “Like a little penis,” he said. “Someday I want to suck it into my mouth.”

“Someday,” I replied, as I found his cock and ran the head against the opening of my vagina.

“So wet and sticky,” he said.

“Yes.”

One inch at a time, I lowered myself onto that beautiful British cock, until it could go no deeper. I rested there a moment, still and silent, enjoying the way he felt inside of me. And then I began to rise ever so slowly, to the very tip, before thrusting down hard on him again. This time, I pushed down as hard as I could and began to rotate my hips, grinding into him. He fingered my clit furiously and found my anus with his other hand. My God! I wanted to scream. The danger of the being caught only added to the excitement of the moment.

I felt his head grow even harder inside of me, and I knew he was about to cum. Seconds later, he began to shudder, his cock twitching inside of me. It set me off, and I had my own glorious orgasm. For a few short moments, we rested in the aftermath, covered with sweat.

“Long live the queen,” I said.

“Only if it promotes tourism,” he replied.

We looked at each other and had a long, hard laugh. That’s when I knew it was going to be one of the hottest Julys ever in my Texas history.

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