Waiting For Him

This story was written for the 2024 Literotica 750 Word Challenge. Below this line are exactly 750 words.

She sat at her dressing table and waited for him.

He'll be here soon. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she forced her breathing to slow, deep breaths into her belly.

He'll be here soon.

Slowly, she opened her eyes and looked at herself in the mirror, deep brown eyes like pools under her thick lashes. He didn't like much makeup, but he did like red lipstick, sex-stained against her creamy, delicate skin. She reached for it, slowly applied it, dabbing off the excess with a tissue. She put the lipstick back in its place.

She waited for him.

Idly, she lifted her hands and cupped her breasts with her palms. Her nipples were clearly visible under her diaphanous nightgown, which fell to just above her knees. It was a pointless garment, barely there, but he liked the tease of it. Sometimes he would lift it off over her head, gently, as if she were a child. Other times he would fall to his knees, press his face into her pussy, and hungrily suck her juices through the thin fabric.

The thought made her sigh, and she felt a tiny throb deep inside. Her nipples were hot now, thickening, pushing hard nubs against her nightgown.

He's right, she thought, it's fucking sexy, this hot, wanting body, covered yet completely exposed in this virgin's nightie. Of their own accord, her thumbs began to idly strafe against her nipples. She bit her lip, and her next exhale was a tiny moan.

She put her hands in her lap. She was waiting for him.

What would he do when he came to this room? Would he take her hands gently, lift her to her feet, and cover her mouth with the softest kiss? Would he walk past her to the armchair in the corner, facing the foot of the bed, and watch her lazily as she laid down and opened her legs for him? Would he stand behind her, training his fingers down to her breasts, the hot ridge of his cock visible in his jeans just above her shoulder in the mirror?

Desperate for movement, for stimulation, for something to pass the time, she reached up and unclipped her hair, letting it cascade and tumble over her shoulders. She had piled it up so that he could take it down, which he loved. But looking at herself now, she liked the way it looked like this, the ends of her hair, shining like mahogany, just brushing her nipples.

She shivered. Sometimes he stroked her hair when he was on top of her, making love to her so slowly and sweetly that she thought she would cry. Other times, he wrapped it around his hand, tugging, holding her as if to tame her as she bucked back onto his cock, crying out with desire.

She throbbed inside, then again. Her pussy flexed against nothing. She moaned and shifted, then felt another throb of wetness slide between her thighs, soaking the nightgown and her chair. She whined.

I won't wait, she thought suddenly. I'll get up and kneel on the bed, shoulders down, nightgown sliding up my back and pooling around my shoulders, I'll present my fuck-ready cunt, open, incarnadine slick and throbbing, beg for his thick hot cock,

And I'll hear him stride up behind me, a quick zip, then a deep fuck plunge into my belly, fingers biting into my hips as I whisper for more, deeper, please fuck more

Or, no, I'll wait, she thought frenziedly, wait until he's behind me at the table, and I'll order him to strip and lie on the bed, pushing his cock upright so I can see it in the mirror, throbbing and leaking for me,

then I'll slowly get up, move to the bed and straddle him, feeling his thick cockhead split the petals of my cunt, stretch me open as I slowly lower onto him,

then I'll arch back away from him, place his hand on my lower belly as I ride him, so he can feel where his cock is moving inside me...

She bit her lip and whined, grinding her pussy against the chair. Her thighs were soaked now, a huge wet spot on the virginal nightie. Her face looked slightly feverish now. It took all of her willpower to keep her hands in her lap.

The front door opened. Keys jangled in the bowl. Footsteps on the stairs.

"Honey?"

She sat at her dressing room table and waited for him.