We Meet

We meet. It's been a long, long time. Almost 25 years. Time has, indeed, marked both of us. We've lost the wide eyed innocence of high school. Lost the sparkle of wonder in our eyes. Lost the rough, patchy skin. Instead, I look in a mirror and see strength touched with vulnerability reflected in my own green eyes. Lines of pain and joy and laughter and tears lightly etched on my face. I like this face better than the frightened one of my youth.

I see him. No longer the angry bad boy, but a confident man. Time has marked him as well. No longer is he gangly, unsure of his height and muscles. He's comfortable in his body. He knows how to move inside of it. I see laughter, delight, and the calculating intelligence of a panther deep within his eyes. I'm melting already.

He says nothing. He wraps his arms around me, not in a friendly-gosh-I've-missed-you embrace. More like I've-got-you-now-and-I'm-not-going-to-let-you-forget-it embrace. I am electrified.

I have to tip my head back to see him. He does not hesitate. He captures my mouth, his hands in my hair, plunges his tongue into mine. I can do nothing but respond. My arms reach up around him. I want to touch his hair, his face. I feel the eyes of others on us and I don't care. Let them see how he devours us. I don't care.

He breaks from me and I am devastated.

"Your key, Sir,"

"Thank you," he responds he holds out his hand, accepts the key, never taking his eyes off me.

He leads me to the elevator and he places the key in the top slot. The penthouse. I'm shocked. I've never been to the penthouse before. I'm more of an economy type of woman. He must have seem my look of surprise because he gives me a half smile.

"You've followed my instructions?" he asks.

I nod, to overwhelmed to speak.

"Take off the dress."

I hesitate. That's all I'm wearing. Just a dress and heels. I look at him and see his eyes darken with passion, expectation. I will not disappoint him. Not after all these years of waiting.

I take off the dress. He smiles in approval but does not touch me, nor does his eyes leave me. The elevator stops. Opens.

He leads me out onto a plush carpet. I'm relieved. We have arrived at the suite he reserved.

He guides me to a sofa. I see he has already ordered room service. A bucket of champagne, a tray of fruit, cheeses and breads. He has me sit on the floor. I don't mind. The thick, plush carpet brushes against my skin. He pours the wine – one glass. He holds it to my lips and I drink. Carefully, he selects a piece of pineapple and feeds that to me. Then he eats. Then he feeds me. He does not speak, nor do I. He does not take his eyes from me. I'm mesmerized and can look only at him. He decides when our bodies have been satiated with food. He decides everything.

He holds out his hand for me and helps me to my feet. I think he will escort me to the bedroom, but I'm wrong. He takes me to the back of the sofa and bends me over it. He leans over me and whispers in my ear.

"I'm going to take you. Now. Hard and fast. Then I'm going to take you again and again. If you don't want that, tell me now. Because once I start, I will not stop. You are mind for this entire day."

I say two words. "Yes. Please."

He's pleased. He nuzzles against my neck, kisses me. I feel him wiggling out of his clothes.

He enters me. Hard and fast, just like he promised. I've been ready for him since I saw him walk into the hotel lobby. I contract around him. He does not make love to me. He fucks me. Twenty five years worth of waiting, longing, fantasizing crash in on both of us. He holds my hips, driving me into him. He's splitting me into and I love it. He explodes, anointing me with his own essence. As soon as I feel his heat injected into my womb, I fly. I soar on the wings of my own ecstasy.

He's breathing hard, his hands on my back. I can't stand it. I want to taste him. I must taste him. I drop to the ground and hear his intake of breathe. I've surprised him. I take his still hard rod and slip it into my mouth. I hear his breathe rush out. He's pleased. I taste my own pungent juices, but more. I taste his sweet, salty cream. I suck and lick and pull him deeply into my throat. My hands explore his legs, his thighs, his ass. I run my finger down the crevice between his tight cheeks until I touch his jewels. I've sucked him clean now. I have all of his essence in my pussy and my mouth. I trail my tongue down. Lick his balls, gently suck them into my mouth.

His hands are in my hair, grasping guiding. I can hear him moan. His tool is softer now, gently brushing against my cheek as I administer to his balls. Soft and beautiful. This pleases me. I move on to kiss his inner thighs. I work my way down. Kissing, licking, tasting his calves, his feet. I feel the passion rising within me again. I'm about to cum again.

He senses this and is pleased. He pulls my hair so I am forced to look up at him. He smiles and I know he's pleased. His pleasure sends me over the edge. I rub my cheek against his thigh as I begin to tremble. He laughs, deep in his throat, graciously allows me to finish my moment of joy.

"Stand up."

I do so only with his help. He leads me, finally, into the bedroom. My eyes widen and I gasp. He has an array of toys arranged on a small table beside the bed. Silken scarves are looped around the bedposts.

"Look at these toys. Imagine what I want to do. If there is anything you don't want, point to it and I'll remove it. Otherwise. I'll do with you as I wish."

I look. Clothespins, warming oil, a plug, a cane, a bullet vibrator. I point to the cane. I don't want to be marked.

He smiles and removes it.

"May I use my hand instead?"

"Yes."