She Was Waiting, Naked

I remember it clearly. It was a Friday afternoon in winter, a light dusting of snow covering the cars and roads outside my office. It was January, in that time after Christmas and New Year's when the world turns dark, and grey. All the lights and bells, the holiday cheer and relaxation of time off was behind us, and all that remained, it seemed, was a bleak sense of foreboding of the year to come.

It is in this month, then, the unofficially most depressing of all months, that we must make our own happiness, I have concluded. And, when you get an email like I did that Friday, it certainly doesn't hurt the situation.

"Just so you know," it said, "I'm at your place, and I'm naked. Oh, and I've been reading naughty stories."

I left work right then and there. Could I have waited? Perhaps, but it would have been difficult. I'm going to go so far as to say that it would have been almost impossible. We had been exchanging dirty emails and showing one another which dirty stories we were reading for nearly a week, and had in that time not had the chance to see one another. She lives about forty-five minutes away, and we are both busy with grad school and jobs.

Working for a consulting company can sometimes have its perks, but its disadvantage is that one is somewhat always "on call." On that day, I didn't care. Clients, bosses, none of it mattered once I read that email. For the better part of a week we had been agonizingly teasing one another, and masturbation was little more than a temporary relief from the constant need I could feel-and could sense in her-building inside.

My only words to my co-workers that day were vague and completely uninformative. "I have to go," I said, putting on my jacket. Strangely, no one questioned me, as they usually might. Perhaps they had just noticed me checking my personal email, and guessed at the situation. Or perhaps I spoke with such force, such authority, that no one felt inclined to argue.

Either way, I was off within minutes of reading the email, my foot trying to maintain some sort of poise while pressing the gas pedal as far down as I dared. As I drove, I thought back to the last week, to the emails sent back and forth.

"Try this one," her email on Thursday had said, followed by a web link. Of course I clicked. How could I not? It was a pirate theme, it seemed. A bit strange at first, perhaps, something that made me think of well produced porn videos, until I got to the meat of it. Our protagonist, if you can call her that, was naked and being used by several men, her pride and her virginity being taken as she succumbed to her most primal urges.

I smiled as I recalled the story, not so much at the story itself, but at the image of her reading it. I imagined her naked, slowly teasing her warm pussy as she scrolled downward, anxiously awaiting the next scene of the story that, by all sensible accounts, should offend a woman less in touch with her primordial lust and passion.

The thought of her wetness did not help my current predicament, attempting to drive cautiously home and not get a ticked or into an accident. It was a difficult task, especially as I imagined her there, in my chair, completely naked and soaking it in her wetness as she read onwards.

Hearing her voice didn't help, when I called her to let her know I was on the way. Her voice was thick, sultry, and inviting. There was a hint of a tease there too, as the told me "Come home quickly, dear. I'll be waiting, and reading." Who knew what she might be reading today, what perversion she was enjoying as I sped home.

When I finally, achingly bounded up the steps of my apartment and through the door, she was there to greet me, covered only by a silk robe hanging lazily from her body as she approached. We spoke a few words, pleasantries that served only as backdrops to our lust. We talked because we felt we should, as she pressed against me and I her, and as I felt her kiss I frankly did not care about her day. All I wanted was to feel myself inside this woman as our kiss became much more, and our bodies pressed closer.

Her moan is what did it. Her moans are loud and thick with emotion, she holds nothing back. At that, I threw off my boots and took her hand as we nearly ran to the bedroom. There, she threw off her robe, revealing her soft, beautiful body as she fell to her knees before me, unhooking my pants and pulling them downwards. She took me in her mouth with a fever I cannot even begin to describe, looking up at me as she pressed her throat to its limits.

She took nearly all of me into her mouth over and over again, pausing only to suck and lick at the head of my cock, leaving me nearly speechless with lust as I groaned at her touch. I could hear the pop of her mouth as my cock left, if ever briefly, before resuming activity. I could hear and see her wide-eyed gagging as she pushed herself to take as much of me as she could, and it made me pulse in her mouth, repeating the cycle.

It was then I noticed her nipples were not completely naked. Instead, a clamp was attached to each. This, I knew, had to be biting into the most sensitive part of her breast with every move she made. I also knew that it was driving her wild. I know she loves her nipples pinched and used, twisted and sucked. It must have been difficult, then, for her to enjoy the pressure on her nipples and fullness in her mouth without reaching down to touch herself.

Somehow, she maintained her composure for a time before finally standing and pushing me to the bed, facing upward. Wordlessly, she mounted me at a reversed angle, so that her pussy was directly over my mouth as she faced the headboard. Oh, you do have a good memory, I thought, as I remembered the dream I had told her about several nights before. In my dream, she woke me by pressing her wetness against my face, by straddling me, in fact. She woke me by making me lick her or else suffocate as she ground her pussy against my lips.

Our reality astoundingly similar as she pressed herself against me, and I responded, taking her engorged bud into my mouth and sucking it, then licking, and repeating the process over and over as her moans began to fill the room. I could feel her grinding harder against my mouth as my own pace increased, her hips bucking downward in rhythm with my tongue. Her hands gripped my hair, pulling me closer to her, pressing my face up close so that I could feel her juices running all over my mouth and face.

And then, suddenly she stood, and I could see from the intensity in her eyes that there was no arguing with what she wanted. She moved backward and straddled my hips, lowering herself over my waiting cock, which was by now pulsing with the aching desire to feel myself deep inside her.

I didn't have to wait long, as her warmth enveloped me in one smooth motion, eliciting a simultaneous intake of breath from both of us. This was the moment we had needed all week, the moment of pleasure that only intensified as her hips began to gyrate back and forth over me, my own hips pushing upward to meet her. I pushed so far into her as a result that her moans nearly could have been called screams as her face contorted with ecstasy.

"Tell me," I breathed in between gasps, "about your dream." Her dreams about sexuality were always intense, and incredibly detailed. That morning, on the phone while driving to work, she had alluded to such a dream. Now, I needed to hear of it.

A knowing smiled played across her lips as she rode me, her eyes rolling back as she attempted to speak in between her own moans of pleasure. "It was me and another girl." She paused for effect. "There was oil. I started with her feet, and moved upward, covering her body in the glistening wetness. She was so soft, and her moans were so delicate, yet with a hint of desperation. I press myself against her, rubbing the oil into her breasts with my own as I kissed her, feeling our lips tingling against one another as I slid over her body."

She paused, breathing heavily as my cock pushed farther inside her, and then continued. "I ran my hands all over her as I inched backward, and then I just pressed my face against her pussy and started licking, my ass high in the air, inviting anyone to come along and take me while I pleasured her. Her noises were so erotic, it made me wet just hearing her in my dream, knowing I was doing that to her. And then, I felt a presence behind me, someone watching, and aroused." Her hips stopped bucking against me for a second as she spoke. "And then I woke up. I woke up unfulfilled, wishing that I could have felt what I knew was there, that rock hard cock behind me ready to take me and grab me by the hips, to pound into me as I licked and sucked the wetness before me. I wanted to be filled with cum as I made her cum."

Her last words came out as moans, with no attempt to stifle the sounds of her pleasure. As she was talking, my thumb had found her clit, and I was circling it slowly as she spoke, the pitch of her speech rising with each revolution. I could feel myself moving with her, my own orgasm building as I watched and listened to her body begging for release.

Our motions became less rhythmic, more desperate as we clung to one another even harder, her nails digging into my body as my hands gripped her hips, the clamps on her nipples shaking with her breasts. She came like that, her body shaking against me as I pushed as hard as I could inside her, feeling her pussy streaming wetness all over my cock. The feeling of her orgasm, the knowledge that we had made her body shake with lust and soak her cunt with juices, was too much.

I screamed her name as I came inside her, feeling the pulsing of my cock forcing sperm deep inside her already drenched wetness. I held myself inside her like that, our lips meeting as our bodies held together, our orgasms slowly subsiding.

"I missed you," she whispered into my ear after she had collapsed on top of me.

"I did too," I replied, noting that I was still hard inside her, and that the pleasure of her body had not diminished.

I could feel her smiling broadly as she noticed it as well. "You aren't done yet, are you?" she asked.

"No. I need you, again."

"This is my favorite kind of weekend," she said, as she let me roll her over so that I lay above her, and we began again.