Long Awaited

The Running Man was the movie choice for the night. I had barely walked in the door before he had a plate of food in front of me and the movie on TV. I sat down at the desk and happily ate my brown sugar BBQ chicken and Asian style rice. Our dinner chat was the usual banter... who he talked to today, the stupid things he saw on Facebook, and what he's learned on the internet. I talked briefly about work, who's quitting, who called off, and the joke of the day. I got up to fill my water bottle and take my plate to the sink, when it dawned on me that I should take his plate too. He always takes my plate for me when I'm last to finish eating. So I head back into the living room, just in time to see him scoop the last bite of rice into his mouth. I reach my hand out to take his plate, and he jerks back from me, giving me a look that says "Get the fuck away."

"What? You always take my plate. You cooked, so I'll take your plate."

He made a whining kind of noise that conveyed his disinterest, while simultaneously making a shooing motion with his free hand. He stood up and brushed past me, on his way to the kitchen. "You're gonna lick my plate!"

I follow him out to the kitchen, laughing. Oh, I'm gonna lick something... "I'm not gonna lick your plate."

"Well, you won't now," he says, placing the plate under a running stream of water. I can feel myself smiling as our eyes make contact, and I giggle again.

Oh God, he's great. I've never met a man like him. He cooks, cleans, and can take care of himself. My body tingled slightly. Any kind of proximity with him always leaves me a little horny, but I could tell tonight was going to be a night of action. I was in the mood to give him a blowjob.

But I had plans to make a cake tonight for my friend's graduation party tomorrow, so I couldn't spend all night having fun. I have to have the cake ready by around 9 am, and it's already about 1:30 am.

I give him a hug.

"I can't hug you back, I have rice on my hands," he says, holding his hands out at a distance by his sides.

I laugh again. "Okay, wash your hands," I say as I let go and turn back towards the living room.

I flop down on the couch and settle in to a few hours of comfort and happiness. I feel so at ease when I'm around him. All of my troubles melt away and things seem so simple and perfect.

He enters the living room and sits on the couch next to me. I instantly lean in for another hug, from the side this time, resting the side of my head on his shoulder. He leans his head down to rest on mine and we sit like that for about two seconds. It seems like a full moment to me.

He gathers his things on the small coffee table in front of us. His glass ashtray, cigarette, lighter, weed, and bowl are neatly arranged. He indulges in half an after dinner cigarette and packs his bowl. Once he leans back on the couch again, I settle in, laying my head in his lap. Above me, he takes a hit from his bowl, and I can smell the weed burn.

Once again, I smile. I'm comfortable, and there's honestly nowhere else I'd rather be.

On the TV, Arnold Schwarzenegger was running through an airport after his hostage betrayed him.

I reached up and brushed a lock of hair from my eyes.

"Oh, is that a sign?" he said in a sarcastically scathing tone. He grabs a fistful of my hair and gently tugs on it.

The roots of my hair light up a bright white color in my mind, tingling with electricity. The pleasant shock travels away from my scalp to my fingers and toes, lingering in my crotch. A deep moan wrestles it's way out of my chest as I feel my ass rise into the air, begging to be touched, smacked, penetrated... begging for attention of any sort.

"You think if you just throw your hair in my way I'll have no choice but to play with it?" He says, grabbing another handful and running his fingers through it.

This time, his touch makes me gasp, and I slowly press my hips forward. I can feel my eyebrows coming together and turning up as my mouth opens, ready to take his hard, powerful penis... my face of submission. A higher pitched, lighter moan escapes my throat as he continues to play with my hair, his motions becoming less aggressive and more relaxed. As I calm down, I gather my thoughts enough to explain.

"I wasn't trying to say anything, I just couldn't see, my hair was in my face."

I wonder if he can hear the smile and satisfaction in my voice.

"Uh huh, sure," he says jokingly, his fingers running through my hair, scratching my head, and tickling my neck.

I relax on his lap. This is my heaven.

As I'm watching Arnold run around in his tight bodysuit, I'm distracted by the thought of his penis being mere inches from my face. I can feel myself getting worked up. There's a heat radiating from my vagina and my tits tingle. The desire to have him inside me is a primal one, and I hunger for it. I start kissing and tickling his belly. Every couple of seconds, his muscles jump. Each time they do, I can feel my uterus jump for joy, egging me on, daring me to make the next move and unbutton his pants.

I make myself relax and just gently trace nonsensical shapes on his belly with my fingertips.

He interrupts me, shifting himself so that he can reach a hand down his pants and readjust.

"I hate these underwear," he says, hand still in his pants. "They're droopy. There's no support."

Once he's finished and settles his arm by his side again, I continue my mission, gently tickling his belly. My face is resting on his hip, and I give it my best effort to direct my breath towards his crotch. As I tickle his belly, I make a point to be interrupted by the presence of his pants, and after a few annoying run ins with his waistline, I make my move.

"I need more space," I say, propping myself up on my elbows. I undo his button and zipper and pull the two flaps of denim down away from his belly. Now I have access to all of his belly, and a little lower, too. I can see the outline of his cock underneath his blue Christian Anderson's. And there, just inches from my lips, is the tip, poking out from under the white waistband.

"See? I'm hanging out," he says, complaining about his underwear like it's a bad thing.

I smile.

I rest my head back on his hip, and continue tickling him. I take full advantage of the extra exposed skin. I make my eyes focus back on the TV, but my mind just isn't on the movie.

I just want a taste. Just a little taste.

I kiss his belly, then move my lips lower down his abdomen and kiss again. I can feel his rock hard muscles tense beneath my lips, and I involuntarily inhale. Desire rocks my body, sending me spiraling down a hole that makes my skin prickle uncontrollably.

I breathe heavily for a second, body stiff, trying to regain my composure. When I have control of my body again, I move my face closer to his penis and lick the little bit of head that is poking out at me.

To my disappointment, he doesn't react like he usually does.

I back off a little... maybe he isn't in the mood? He doesn't seem to be turned on by me right now... what am I doing wrong? Usually if my breath and kisses don't get him hard, my tongue does.

Mind reeling with questions, I settle back into my tickling position and resume gently tracing nonsense on his skin. My eyes return to the TV, but it's just not interesting enough.

I feel his muscles jump under my touch and it feels like an invisible hand grabs my uterus and yanks me closer to him. I inhale sharply and press myself against him. As I slowly relax and exhale, I kiss him around the waistline of his Andrew Christians, and this time I see him react. That simple involuntary bodily reaction was all I needed.

I kiss the tip, then hook my finger under the waistband and pull down, kissing along the shaft now. I gently drag my lips back to the top and wrap around the head.

Above me, I hear him moan.

Yes.

I move my tongue around, getting him nice and wet so that I can easily slide him deeper into my mouth, down my throat.

He gasps, then moans, then tightens his grip on my hair and thrusts his pelvis, sinking his cock into my throat. In return, I moan as my body reacts. My back arches, ass rising into the air again, eyes rolling back, breathing heavily.

This is the only place I want to be.

But this could be better. I've only just begun, and I'm still using my free hand, the one I'm not laying on, to hold his underwear back. This just won't do.

I prop myself up and hook a finger in each side of his underwear and begin to pull down.

"Let's get this out of the way," I say, eyes not leaving his now hard member.

He lifts his ass off the couch so that I can easily slide the underwear down. Once it's out of the way, he sighs in satisfaction. It must have been just as annoying for him as it was for me.

We both settle back down and I quickly take him back in my mouth, but this time my hand starts working his shaft. I'm rewarded with another moan.

If I could smile, it would be from ear to ear.

I focus my lips around the head and rim, where it's sensitive, and use the wetness to slide my hand from my lips down. He thrusts slightly. To avoid monotony and repetition, I change rhythm so my hand moves in synchrony with my head. My action is met by moans of satisfaction.

As I lose myself in the moment, my body joins in, writhing in rhythm to the movements of my mouth, hand, and him. We are one, a pleasure machine, focused only on what feels good.

His hands grip my hair and pull my head back, exposing most of his shaft. Then he thrusts up, sinking himself deep into my throat. I'm weightless, moaning. My eyes roll back in my head as he takes control. My scalp prickles, my hips grind against the couch. Deep inside me I feel an empty hole that is screaming to be filled. I love when he asserts his dominance. He pulls out again, holding my head back, teasing me with the head of his cock. It's all the way out of my mouth this time. I stick my tongue out, eager to have him back inside me, as I now feel empty and incomplete. He feels my tongue on his dick and holds back for one more second before plunging himself back inside me. I moan, mind exploding in a buzz that completely blocks any coherent thought, and my whole body writhes on top of the couch, head held firmly in his hands on his lap.

He pulls out again, but this time he pulls me off of him and stands up.

My mind is still buzzing, slow to process what is happening.

"Take these off," he says, scratching at my lower back, tugging at the waistline of my jeans. He turns around and pulls his own pants and underwear off.

A smile breaks out over my face. I want to say something, but my throat closes up... probably for the better, I would only say something stupid.

I stand up and take my pants off, silently watching him. His back is still to me. He pulls his shirt off, and I become lost in the rippling of the muscles in his back, amplified by the shadows cast from the light of the TV.

"You're already wet," he says. He knows me so well.

I turn to face the couch, not sure what to expect next, and he gently pushes me onto my hands and knees.

I really can't believe this is happening.

"I guess we can play like this a little more often," he says, kneeling on the couch behind me, placing his hands on my hips.

His words knock the air out of me, and I exhale. I'm already in ecstasy, and we haven't even done anything yet.

He starts sliding the head of his dick around in my fluids and I moan, already arching my back. Even if we didn't go any further, this is already one of the best days of my life.

His dick slides through my upper thighs, and I feel it hot and wet against my clit, and I gasp and moan again, pressing my face into the couch and my ass into the air.

"We could just play around a little," he says, gently grinding his cock through my thighs. I whimper in return, still unable to make any sort of coherent speech. I resort to moaning as a means of answering.

I move my hips along with his, encouraging his actions and silently begging for more. Begging to finally be filled by him.

He stops thrusting and slides the head around a little more, teasing so well.

That's when I feel a sharp heat across my ass, and I hear the sound of smacking. I gasp as I feel the hot surge of desire between my legs. If he thought I was wet before, then I'm fucking flooding now. It takes my brain a split second to realize he smacked my ass. He smacks again and I squeal, enjoying it. Again and again, a barrage, but he stops just before that line between "Please sir, may I have another?" And "That's enough." Oh God he's so perfect.

And then, he's in.

I feel him enter, stretching me wide, then slowly sinking deeper and deeper into me.

I sigh in absolute happiness. So many times I've daydreamed about this moment, but never truly expected it to happen.

We move together, our movements complementing each other, punctuated by gasps, moans, and sighs. I feel his right hand press down on my hip while the left presses on my left shoulder.

Oh God I love being underneath him!

He moved his right hand to my right shoulder and I can feel his head on the back of mine.

"This is great," he says.

I'm so glad he thinks so, because I think it's fucking amazing, but of course I can't actually speak those words.

"There's no pressure, no 'You have to do this,' no awkward conversations... it's great."

On that last word he thrusts deep and hard and I gasp my squeaky little horny gasp. I know I could be louder, but I've trained myself to be noiseless during sex. Reversing this habit is difficult. But I want to portray to him just how much I'm loving this.

"See?" He says, "we're not having sex. We're exercising while watching TV. Nothing's going on here." All I can do is moan in response.

As he continues gently pumping in and out of me, he slides his hands down my arms, stopping at my elbows. Instinctively, I move to hold his hands, my arms crossing above my head, my body pressed into the couch.

What I didn't expect was for him to respond positively to me trying to hold his hands. As he's deep inside me, with my hands over his, holding onto him, he firmly tucks his thumb over mine, preventing me from letting go.

I love him.

I love him I love him I love him I love him I love him I love him I love him.

And yet I still can't speak, the only way I can communicate is through squeaks, gasps, moans, and sighs. And communicate I try.

Once again, I feel his head pressing into the back of mine, and I can hear him breathing and moaning into my ear. I can picture his hips pressed flat against my ass, my back arched, his abs flexing as he bends over, head on mine. He wants to be close to me. He's enjoying touching, interacting, he's actually enjoying the intimacy.

I am in absolute heaven. I could die right now and be very, very happy. My corpse would smile.

"Who turned that damn heater on?" He says, pushing himself back up, moving his hands back down to my lower back.

"It is hot," I say, panting.

Oh my God. I spoke. Yay!

"Let's just take a break for a second," he says, pressing himself against me, still inside, and just holding himself there. "I can just lay here and not do the work, right?" He says jokingly.

But I can't joke right now, this is a serious moment. I squeak out an "uh huh" and grind my hips against him.

After a few minutes of this, he starts thrusting again. God, he's so perfect. I can feel him reaching deep inside me, and I never want to forget this. He switches between soft, gentle thrusts and harder, aggressive ones. I think he's trying to feel out how dominant he likes to be. I get the sense he doesn't like it much.

He slips out. My breath escapes me, slightly frustrated. Why the interruption?

But then he's inside me again, and the momentary pause is quickly forgotten.

We continue writhing, our sweaty bodies moving together, both moaning, once again becoming lost in the moment.

I've lost all track of time and of what Arnold Swarzeneggar is doing on TV.

He slips out again.

He's going soft. I expected this, honestly, and I'm surprised it took him this long.

But I'm happy.

"It's so hot! When did it get so hot?" He says, standing up to turn off the small space heater. I giggle, because I've been hot from the very beginning. "I'll be right back," he says, and I hear him quietly walk into the bathroom.

I continue to lay there, just breathing and taking in everything that has happened.

I hear the shower turn on.

I get up and walk to the bathroom.

"Everything okay?" I ask.

"Yeah," he replies from inside the shower. "It's all mental, it's not like I have a problem staying hard. It's just that when it goes near a vagina it says no."

"That's okay," I say, always the understanding one. Or at least I try to be. I don't fully get it, but I'm certainly not going to complain... I could lose whatever action I am able to get.

The shower turns off and he steps out. I admire his slim, tone figure. I love how you can see his muscles move under his skin.

"I was just cleaning up so you can go down on me again," he says, drying off.

Part of me feels like I should be offended. Who says I'm going to go down on you again? What do I get out of it? But the other part of me doesn't care and is eager to please him and taste his cum. I guess that's what I get out of it.

"Should I shower too?" I say, thinking about how sweaty I am.

He gives me a look. "No, I'm not going down on you." At that, I stare at him blankly, dumbfounded. I try to hide it. "But I don't want you going down on me when I'm all sweaty like that. It's like when someone comes home from a construction job, some girls don't care and they'll have sex with them before they shower. I'm not like that."

"Okay," I say. I hope I covered up my slight disappointment to his statement about not eating me out. I didn't expect him to do so, but I was surprised to find that I vaguely hoped for it.

We sit back down on the couch, my head back in his lap, my vagina dripping and my mind still spinning.

"The movie is almost over," he says, laughing. He grabs his phone, which is also the remote, and rewinds the movie halfway.

I can't stop smiling.

We watch the movie for a few minutes before I commence with kissing his belly again. The beginning of my blowjob ritual.

His hands find their way into my hair and the tingle they create radiates down my spine. I sigh gently.

Without much hesitation, I take him in my mouth, and within seconds he's standing tall and hard.

I quickly become lost in the rhythm, the taste, the feel, and the sounds of his gasps and moans. I let him pop out of my mouth and I slowly lick up the shaft.

He makes a slightly frustrated groan.

"I want that inside of you," he says, and my stomach drops. "I want to stay hard like this for you."

I feel a deep, guttural growl bubble up from my chest. As soon as it passes through my lips, I devour him, taking him deep in my mouth, down my throat.

He wants that inside me. He wants that inside me. He wants that inside me. Oh my God I can't believe he just said that. I can't believe I just heard that. I can't believe he actually feels that way! I mean, I want that inside me, but he wants it too! FUCK. ME.

I moan. And moan. And groan. And gasp. And grind. His words have sent me into a frenzy, down a deep, dark hole, that I will not return from for quite some time.

I'm lost.

I'm gone.

He owns me, I am his.

Take me, Master.

And he feels me react this way, he can sense how turned on I am, and it pushes him to the edge.

"Oh fuck..." he groans. "Can I come?"

I laugh. And then I moan. And I have a nearly uncontrollable urge to mount him. He's asking me if he can come???