This Time

I'm trembling ever so slightly as I shift my weight on my black heels. I've no way of knowing which crowd of deplaning passengers will be your crowd, so I scan each face, looking for you.

I see you a split-second before you see me. You're dashing; the navy blazer hugs your wide shoulders and cuts in at your waist, emphasizing your masculine shape.

I'm glad I opted for slightly dressier wear than my usual jeans. My long black skirt is modest but clings to my hips and rear in just the right places. My top is white, demure, but anyone looking closely would notice the hint of the black bra underneath and the deep décolleté subtly shadowed by the mandarin collar. My dark auburn hair is long and loose. The wolf whistles and cat-calls from the boys' high school soccer team I walked past in the parking lot suggest I look pretty good.

You have a backpack over your shoulder and a duffle in your other hand and still you manage to envelop me completely in your arms.

Our embrace is brief but electric. A quick kiss, full of promise.

You hold me close to you as we walk toward the parking garage elevator. We've gone but a dozen steps when you stop suddenly on the concourse and grab my face, turning me toward you for a full open-mouthed kiss, heedless of the crowds of people around us. My legs shake, I feel you hard against me. I wonder if we'll make it to the hotel.

We break apart enough to move and continue to the elevators. I'm briefly disappointed that we don't get the car to ourselves but revel in the rising sexual tension.

You're sweet, chivalrous, protective as we walk through the airport. You laughingly tolerate my insistence that I know where I parked and are gentlemanly at being proved right in the end. You balance me as I catch my heel near the curb and call me honey. It feels like you're taking possession of me, and I'm surprised to find I like it.

I give you the keys to my Explorer. You look at me as I slide into the passenger seat, glancing down as my skirt rides up my thigh. The gaze you shoot me is smoldering, demanding.

We make it out of the airport, heading into the city, talking quietly while you drive, holding hands, touching each other over the arm rest between the bucket seats.

I think we're both surprised when we decide to stop for dinner, but the conversation is just as stimulating as the caresses are. We're enjoying the anticipation, the foreplay, the relaxation.

You take us to a cool little bar, an old speakeasy. You order for us both. We talk, laugh, drink. Every so often, I drop my shoe under the table and run my foot up your leg. Every time I do, you devour me with your eyes.

It's warm, clear. We wait outside for the valet to come back with the truck. I stand behind you, my arms around your waist, my four-inch heels bringing the top of my head to your shoulders. You hold my arms tightly against you, I lean my cheek against the broad expanse of your back.

A man walks past us and stops. He says he's Navajo. It's like something out of a script, a lucid dream. He calls me beautiful, tells you you're lucky. You agree with him, and he serenades us briefly with some pop tune from our high school years. I'm dizzy, lost in this reality, desperate with desire, while fate, karma, and destiny whisper in my ear.

We wait impatiently at the reception line of the hotel to check-in. The man in front of us tries to negotiate a better rate.

"They'd better get us our room, or they're going to watch me take you right here in the lobby," you growl in my ear. Your voice makes me shiver. The dampness between my legs grows. I feel you hard against my rear as you stand with you arms around my waist. I press back ever so slightly against you. Your grip on me tightens.

Finally, we're in the room you booked. We stand still together, take in the view, the moment.

I turn in your embrace. There is nothing tentative about this kiss. Your hands tangle in my hair. I clutch at your back, pull you tight to me.

We stumble back against the wall, hands and mouths every where. I tug your shirt out of the waist of your pants, run my hands up over your stomach. Your bare skin is hot under my fingertips.

I moan low in my throat as you yank my skirt up, cup my ass. You have me pressed against the wall with your whole body. I can barely move as you grind against me. I'm wet, aching. My nipples are stiff inside my bra, every inch of my skin aflame. I give myself over completely to my desire, to you.

You step back, unbutton your shirt and toss it on the chair, pull your tee-shirt over your head. I start to unbutton my blouse but you stop me, taking over the job yourself. My skirt drops to the floor and I'm standing before you in my black push-up bra, black lace boyshorts, and those heels.

You walk me back toward the bed; I sit when the backs of my knees hit the mattress. You step out of your pants and boxers. You're gorgeous, stiff, hard for me. You press me back into the bed, lift my legs one at a time, pull off my shoes. You drop a kiss on the arch of my foot before lowering it back down.

I wrap my arms around your neck, pull your head to me. You straddle me. We kiss deeply, licking, sucking, tasting each other. You lift me, move me to the head of the bed, nestle me in the stack of pillows.

You kiss my neck, I reach down and stroke you, spreading the wetness from your tip down your hard, hot shaft. You growl into my mouth, slap my rear, pull my panties off and toss them aside.

You slide your hand up my back, unclasp my bra. My breasts are flushed, nipples dark and stiff. You duck your head, take one nipple in your mouth and capture the other between your fingers, rolling and pinching it. I moan, get wetter, press my hips up so I can feel you against my core. You're hard, hot, so big.

You trail one hand down over my stomach, over the curve of my hip. Your hand goes between my legs, your fingers teasing me, dipping into me, spreading my wetness around. You slide one finger into me. I buck against your hand. You quickly add two more fingers, filling me up, thrusting deep, again, again.

I writhe under you, helpless to your ministrations, so turned on that I don't panic when I feel your thumb probe my rear. No one has ever touched me like that; I'm nervous but far too aroused to do anything but go with it.

It only takes seconds before your hands bring me to an intense climax. I moan into your kisses as I ride the waves of pleasure.

I barely have time to breathe before you slide down my body and press your face between my legs. You're incredible, licking and sucking me. Ecstasy. I want to give you the same; I turn and take you into my mouth.

You taste salty, tangy, perfect. Your skin is soft, hot, taut and smooth. I swirl my tongue around you, then tilt my head back and take you as deep as I can, into my throat. You groan, growl, and thrust into my mouth a few times before you move back above me, kissing me.

Everything slows down.

You're between my legs, I raise my knees, let them fall open. You hold yourself above me, looking into my eyes. You caress my cheek with one hand, rain gentle kisses on my lips and neck. You press into me. God.

I'm so wet, so tight. I feel everything as you push into me, so deep. You pull out, slide back in, again. I pull my legs a little higher, you go just a bit deeper, bottom out against my cervix. I've never been so full, so completely taken.

You grind your pelvis against me, circling your hips without pulling back. I wrap one leg up around you. You grab the headboard with one hand, support the weight of your torso with your other arm. You look into my eyes as you pull slowly out. I'm lost in arousal, my body responding, reacting to your touch.

You send me over the edge as you slam back into me. I call your name, once, twice.

You don't stop, and neither does my orgasm. The waves of pleasure grow more intense as you pound into me, fast and hard. God. Oh God, yes.

I'm totally uninhibited, touching your body, your face, your tattoo. I love watching you move in and out of me, watching the lust, pleasure on your face.

I know you're getting close, closer. Your thrusting loses rhythm as you begin to lose control.

"Come inside me. Baby, please. Come inside me."

You stiffen, thrust hard against me, and I feel you pulse inside me. You're so big, so deep that I actually feel each spasm, each release as it happens.

You collapse atop me. I wrap my arms around you, holding you as close as I can. I stroke the back of your head, your shoulders. You make no move to pull out; you actually seem to press closer to me.

We rest. We have hours of love-making ahead of us, but for the moment we stay lost in this time.