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This story is merely a fantasy, a work of fiction. Any resemblance
the characters have to persons living or imaginary is purely coincidence.
Post comments to alt.sex.stories or alt.sex.stories.d
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"Vitamin Supplement"
I put the finishing touches on the display in the booth.
"Anything else I can do?", I ask.
Kathleen stops, checks a few things off on her notepad, and then
responds, "Yeah. It's a big favor. We have a rep flying in from the
head office this afternoon. It would be nice if someone was there to
meet him at the airport, show him around a bit, give him a ride to his
hotel, you know? Would you be able to do that for me? I still have
too much to finish up here."
"Sure", I reply, anxiety creeping into my voice, "Anyone I know?"
Kathleen looks up. "I think you might remember him from the Denver
Home show last year...." And she says his name. My knees go weak.
I'd been hoping against hope...and now I am not sure... "When does
his flight get in?", I am trying to sound calm, composed. My cheeks
feel hot, and I can feel the heat spreading down my neck. I tell
myself to take slow, gentle breaths. Kathleen is too preoccupied to
notice.
"In about an hour, you'd better hurry." She tears off a piece of
paper with his flight information on it and hands it to me.
I rush off to my hotel room, wash, apply a very subtle perfume to the
back of my neck, and just below the breasts. I dig out some lingerie.
The satin and lace push-up bra, and matching panties. Deep purple
satin. Black Lace. I flirt with the idea of wearing the slinky red
dress, but think better of it. That would be overkill. And too
obvious. Jeans. Tight jeans, and a loose-fitting cotton sweater. The
pretty blue one that highlights my breasts so nicely. I run my hand
through my hair. Give it a tossle. I look in the mirror, and stop.
Why am I doing this? Do I really want anything to happen? Will he? Am
I over what he put me through? If pain can be sweet, then he was honey
laced with heroin to me. An addiction. I realize that no matter what,
I have to see him. If for nothing else, than to resolve my feelings.
My mind made up, I slip on my shoes, and dash out the door.
At the airport, I scan the monitors. Flight 1703, arriving at gate 14.
My heart is pounding, and I almost feel dizzy. The anticipation is
nearly overwhelming. My god, I think, if I am this bad just waiting,
what will it be like when I actually see him? Passengers start to
stream out of the doors. I scan the human flow for that face. The one
indelibly stamped in my memories. And there he is. Shouldering a
backpack, unwittingly walking towards me. Not expecting to see me, I
don't think he recognizes me. My hair is now very short, quite
different from before. My shape is much more lean, firmer - I have been
working out at the gym, and I have lost weight since the last time we
saw each other. I swallow, summon my courage, and walk towards him.
The crowd seems to melt away. My ears are ringing. I have to mentally
remind myself to breathe again. When we are about 10 feet apart, he
sees me. His pack drops to the floor. His mouth drops slightly agape.
I can tell that he is shocked and nervous. Not sure what to do. I can
relate. I feel like a kid on her first date. Then the lunacy of it
all strikes me and I have to smile.
"Hi." It's all I can muster, but it seems to break his trance and he
walks towards me, his pack forgotton on the floor. We stand there, not
speaking, just looking at each other. The seconds we stand there frozen
seem like hours, but then we are hugging and holding each other, as if
either one of us might fall at any moment.
"My God.", he whispers, "I thought you'd never want to see me again.
I thought I'd never get a chance to see YOU again." I stop the flow of
words with a tender, wet kiss. He is surprised, but instantly responds.
My tongue leaves a hint of remembering on his lips. Mine are tingling,
I can feel my nipples becoming erect. I can tell, by the way he is
pressing close to me, that the chemistry is still there. When I pull
away, I realize he is in soft focus. Are the tears in my eyes ones of
joy, or of pain remembered? It doesn't matter. He is here. I am
here. I squeeze my eyes shut, and banish the tears. Perhaps, for a
short time at least, we can lose ourselves in the fire that seemed to
consume us from the very first.
"I'm supposed to 'meet' you and give you ride." That evil grin of
his surfaces. I respond with a wistful smile of my own. "To the hotel,
I mean." He exhibits a mock expression of disappointment. I turn it
around, "But you'll have to repay me. A ride for a ride?"
His eyes sparkle, and he squeezes me tight. "Are you sure you want to
do this?" he asks. I know what he means.
"Are YOU sure?", my response. "After all, YOU were the one who broke
it off. Said you couldn't handle it." At that moment, the baggage
carousel starts up. I defer the inevitable by saying, "Grab your bags,
and we'll talk in the car."
His luggage in one hand, he reaches for me with his other. At first
touch, our hands are cold, from nerves. But they warm from the contact
as we walk to the car. In the car, we just sit. Not starting it, not
moving, just looking at each other.
Finally, I tell him, "I really need another hug." And to myself, I've
needed one from you for so long now...
He doesn't need anymore prompting than that. It is awkward, leaning
across the stick-shift, but it feels so good. I long to just stay
like this, but I need more than a hug, I need some answers.
"Why didn't you tell me you were coming to this trade show?"
"Because I was afraid that you might tell me you WEREN'T coming to
it.", he says, eyes downcast.
I'm confused. "I don't get it."
"Well, if I had told you I was coming, and you had said you couldn't
make it, I'd have been really depressed. So I decided to leave it to
chance, or fate. Better not knowing, than knowing bad news."
I never could understand that kind of logic, so, I reply with a smile,
"You're weird."
"Yeah? So what exactly are you trying to say?", his standard retort,
when I state the obvious. Then he looks sad again. "More than
anything, I really wasn't sure if you wanted to see me or not. I know
I hurt you. I thought you might just tell me to fuck off. I didn't
think I could handle that."
I want to bounce off into my usual sardonic style, put on my best
Mae West accent and say "Well let me tell ya sweetheart, the thought DID
cross mah mind...", but I can't. This is dredging up too many old
feelings. Things that went unsaid before, now have to be spoken.
I can't look at him and think clearly. I look at the steering wheel,
the dashboard, anything but him, and try to concentrate my thoughts. I
have rolled it over in my head so many times - the things I was going
to say to him. For so long now, I have had it resolved in my mind.
Where did all the rationality go? Now that he is here, all the
carefully rehearsed lines have disappeared. My words seem to come out
a jumbled mess.
"I'll be honest. There were times... I wasn't sure either. You DID
hurt me. You could have talked to me right from the start, and told me
you were messed up. I think I could have helped. But by being
diffident and aloof, it was like lying to me. Not being truthful. I
felt betrayed. By the time you DID explain things, you pretty much had
yourself convinced to end it, and *I* was really messed up. I just
couldn't understand this 'breaking it off now, because someday we might
HAVE to break it off'. I think things could have gone differently if
you had been open from the start. I wanted to contact you, but I held
off. I had told you to call anytime, and you never did. I took that as
an indication that you didn't want to reopen old wounds. Sometimes, I
thought it was because you just didn't care, or because there was really
somebody else. But you know, I just couldn't get you out of my mind.
Some days I'd say 'Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you for lying!
Fuck you for hurting me!', and other days, I'd just ache for your touch
and the sound of your voice. I'd ache for your laugh and your smile. I
wrote sad, tormented letters full of anger and pain, and never sent
them. Other times, I'd be in the middle of doing something and I'd
flash back to a time we'd spent together, and before I knew it, a soft
moan would escape my throat. I'd look around furtively, to see if
anyone could have heard...." The tears are back in my eyes, and spilling
over onto my cheeks. "Before I met you I never even knew there was
anything missing. Then you were there and I realized how long I had
been starving. When you left, you took part of me with you." I rub at
one eye with the heel of my palm. "I don't know why I'm getting
all emotional like this.... I stopped hurting for you a long time ago.
I decided to just focus on the good memories, and hope that someday we
could be friends again." Or something more, my heart says.
He is uncertain how to respond. "I wanted to... I was just so fucked
up. I felt like you were an addiction. I felt guilty that I might be
making decisions based on my feelings for you, and neglect what was
important for my family. I had so much going on in my head... When I
realized I might not ever see you again, well, it hurt so much I
couldn't deal with it. I know it's hard to understand. I still don't
understand it all myself. Do you still hate me for it?" I take his
face in my hands, kiss his lips softly, and lean my forehead against
his.
"You know I could never hate you. It might have made it easier if
I could, God knows, I tried, but the hate just wouldn't come."
"I'm SO sorry.", he says, "You know I never wanted to hurt you. I
thought if I called you again, it would just make matters worse. I
thought it best for both of us to try and get on with our lives. But
damn! I missed you." His fingers brush the tears from my face, and our
lips join again in bittersweet, salty kisses. Then his kisses turn into
something deeper, more passionate. His tongue circles my lips, probes
the deeper in my mouth. His hand is on the back of my neck, pulling me
close to him, and I am lost. I feel all fire and ice at the
same time. But there is something more I have to know.
"What about now? How do you feel about me now?" I ask.
"I think I have my shit a little more together now. I haven't really
let myself mentally explore any possibilities, because I didn't know how
you would feel about seeing me again. Or if I'd ever see you again." he
pauses, takes in a deep breath. He looks into my eyes, "I guess I feel
the way I did when I first saw you and you sat down beside me." And his
voice becomes hushed, "I didn't want you to leave." I'm a sucker. I'm
falling hard and fast, but I don't care. I lean forward to kiss him
again, and he moves and whispers in my ear, "You were forewarned you
know. I TOLD you I was an asshole." That mischievous look is back in
his eyes.
"Lucky for you I didn't believe you!", and I start tickling him. We
break off into giggles and little grabbing kisses and hugs and
unintelligible words. All the pain and the hurt melts away in the
intensity of our play. I feel that same high I did when I first met
him. The kind you get when you connect -really connect- with someone.
The air around us is electric, and at last he practically shouts,
"Let's get to the damn hotel! Before I take you right here in the
parking lot!"
"Promises promises", my retort. A challenge, but I don't give him a
chance to pursue it. Perhaps if the car were bigger... But no. Right
now, I want privacy and intimacy. I start the car.
On the drive to the hotel, he is amazingly restrained, he barely touches
me. Every time I look over at him, I see his eyes fixed on me. Not
leering, no, almost caressing me. A look of both adoration and lust.
Once again, I feel school-girlish. Occasionally, his hand reaches out
and brushes the hair from my cheek, but that is all. And that is
enough. I can feel that familiar ache and my panties are starting to
get wet already. Just from the proximity.
"What are you wearing under that?", he asks. I hear the anticipation
in his voice. I tease him. I know what turns him on.
"Mmmmm. Something special. I think you'll like it." I smile and
seductively run one hand over my breast and down the length of my body.
God. I hope I don't soak right through these jeans before we get
there! I laugh at the thought.
"What's so funny?"
"If we don't get to the hotel soon, I'm going to look like I've peed
myself...". I squirm in the seat.
A self-satisfied smile appears on his face. "Ahhh, exactly the
response I was aiming for."
His obvious delight turns me on all the more. "You seem to have
that affect on me." My nipples are hard, almost throbbing, and I long
to feel his incredible tongue on them, but that will have to wait. I
curse the rush-hour traffic, and make small talk to calm us down. We
talk about his kid, our spouses, jobs, our lives. But neither of us is
really listening to the words. Everything is body language and sexual
cues and it doesn't matter WHAT he says, even the sound of his voice
turns me on... And I wonder again, why it is that this all turns to sex.
There is so much more to what I feel for him than that. Perhaps those
are the moments I feel closest to another person? Then again, why am
I psycho-analyzing? Maybe it's just kismet, and everything about him
turns me on. And I want to make him feel incredibly good. This is
something I KNOW I can do. I am a sensual being. I love getting and
giving pleasure. Yeah. That's it.... By the time we get to the
hotel, I am so excited that just the feel of my thighs brushing
together, as I walk through the lobby, is driving me insane.
As he registers at the front desk, I look anxiously around. Oh please.
Please. Please. Don't let anyone we know notice him (or me) here.
Otherwise we will never get a chance to.... We practically run to the
elevator, and jump inside. He pushes the button for the 16th floor. We
are alone.
"Hey", he says, pressing close, "Don't you have fantasies about
elevators?"
Now I am the one with the wicked smile. "Yes, but I'd need to be
wearing a dress. And no underwear.... ". I reach my hand down, and
stroke him. I can feel him hard and straining against his jeans. God.
I love that feeling! By the time we reach the 16th floor, he is
groaning softly. I delight in driving a lover over the edge. The more
visibly turned on he gets, the more I do. The build-up is half the fun.
We walk hurriedly to the room. The moment we are inside, the bags are
flung on the floor, and we are a tangle of lips, tongues, arms, legs.
We tumble onto the bed.
Eventually, breathlessly, we break apart, and he asks, "Do I get to
find out what you have on under that?"
I reach over and turn the radio on. I think we may need the music to
mask the sounds which will soon be emanating from the room. (Not that I
am inhibited, but we don't know who is staying in the adjacent rooms.
Might be someone who knows him.) Just before I get up, I take his hand,
bring it up under my sweater and let him feel the curve of my breast
through the satin. Then I rise, walk a few feet away from him, turn,
and begin taking my sweater off. Slowly, seductively. It takes just a
few seconds, but I make the most of it. He groans. I walk up to him.
He is sitting on the bed and I bend slightly to let my breasts brush his
face. The softness of the satin, the scratch of the lace. My nipples
are hard. As his hands reach up to cup them, I reach down and pull off
his t-shirt. Mmmm. That hairy chest. I run my hands up and over his
shoulders, down his back. I never liked hairy backs before, but his is
so soft it's like a silky fur pelt. I love it. His hands are
caressing, stroking my breasts through the bra. His thumbs each rubbing
and teasing a nipple. My breath is coming in short gasps. I have to
try not to hyperventilate. We will have so little time together. I
want this to go slowly. To savour every moment.
He gently pulls back a part of the lace, and begins teasing my nipple
with his tongue. It practically vibrates on my nipple. Now I am
moaning and digging my nails in his shoulders, and trying not to lose
control. His tongue begins teasing my other nipple, as his hands deftly
undo my jeans. They are tight, so he must work them slowly down to the
floor. I am practically swimming in my panties. He runs his hand
lightly between my legs and utters one word: "Wow".
He stands, puts his hands on my waist, turns me, and lays me back on the
bed. He kneels on the floor, pulls my ass forward, and positions me on
the edge of the bed. Then he starts kissing my pussy through the
panties. Kissing, biting, sucking, chewing gently on my clit. The
feeling through the satin is exquisite. His fingernails rake my inner
thighs. He works his hands round, and squeezes my ass. Every so often
he sneaks a finger under edge of the panty, and teases me. My hands are
in his hair, then clutching the fabric of the bedspread, then rubbing my
breasts, frantic. My hips are undulating towards his face. He watches
me the whole time. It turns him on to have this power over me. To be
in control. My moans are like a plea to stop teasing, and he finally
gives in. He pulls the crotch of the panties aside and puts his
delicious, incredible tongue directly to work on my clit. I begin to
quiver uncontrollably, and I am coming, and coming and moaning and
coming.
He looks up smiling, his face glistening, and I lurch to a sitting
position again, and grab him. Still fresh with the glow of the orgasm,
I kiss him passionately, our faces sliding all over each other's, slick
with the taste of my cum. The half-day's growth of beard on his face
makes my lips and cheeks burn, but serves only to heighten the
sensations.
"I know what you want now," he teases.
But I show remarkable restraint. It is MY turn to pleasure HIM. "Yes,
but I am going to treat you to something special first. I told you I
didn't really play my full hand last time....I'll show you a few more
cards this time."
At my urging, we stand up. I run my tongue playfully through his chest
hair. He smells wonderful. A mixture of clean-soapsmell, with a hint
of musky, male, sweat. I seek out the nipples that I know are so
sensitive, and give them my full attention. While I tongue and
playfully bite one nipple, I tease the other with my thumb and
forefinger. Pinching gently, and brushing lightly and rapidly over the
erect nipple. His breath is coming in ragged gasps. (gee and I haven't
even done anything REALLY good yet - I smile to myself). I run my
fingernails gently down the sides of his chest, work my way over to the
middle, and begin undoing his jeans. I slide my hand into his pants, and
rub that hot, inviting flesh. I instantly notice something.
"Oh. You don't have any underwear on. How naughty."
That infamous devilish grin flashes across his face.
"I remembered that fantasy you told me, and I decided not to wear any.
Just on the off chance that you might be here."
I feel warmed by the fact that he remembered. But how cocky! "How
did you know I'd be interested in finding out? Did you really think I'd
still find you that irresistable?"
"Well, didn't you?"
"Ohhh. You're a rat!" And I tug at his chest-hair.
But I'm only feigning offence. I have always found his self-assured
manner captivating, so I let the comment slide. As I drop his jeans
to the floor, I drop to my knees.
I can tell that his hard cock desperately wants to feel my lips around
it. But he will want it even more by the time I am ready to provide
that service. I tickle under his balls with my fingertips, stroke his
legs, and apply tender teasing kisses around his cock, but only just
barely touch it. Each time my face deliberately brushes against it, he
sighs. He makes a half hearted attempt to direct my head and mouth to
the area desiring the most attention, but I deftly out-maneuver him and
continue my teasing. I take one of his balls in my mouth and begin
sucking it, swirling my tongue over it as it slides in and out of my
mouth. Then I start on the other one. To add to the torture, I start
giving feather-light caresses up and down his cock, with my fingertips.
It can tell by the increased pitch of his groans and gasps, that I must
give him some release soon....Enough teasing. Well, maybe just a little
more.... I run my tongue from the base of his cock to the tip, and begin
rapidly flicking just below the head with the tip of my tongue. Then I
grab the shaft with my hand and slide my mouth over the swollen head.
His cock is so wide, I can hardly get my whole mouth over it. As I
slide my mouth up and down, I synchronize the motion with strokes from
my hand on the shaft. With my other hand I continue to caress and tease
his balls. His knees are buckling, and his hips are thrusting forward.
I stop. And hold tightly. Then slowly, I release him, and start
stroking his legs. I reach up and tease his nipples with my fingertips
again. When I think he is calmer I return my mouth to his cock.
Licking and sucking. I love listening to the sounds of his pleasure.
The pitch and the volume increase as I slide my mouth faster and faster
up and down. His hands try to pull my head away. He tries to stop me.
"No. Don't. I want to fuck you. The way you like it."
I smile, (Difficult to do with a mouth full of cock), and remove my
mouth just long enough to say "Don't worry. You will. You won't get
off that lightly". I am not sure if he is groaning about the pun, or
what I am doing to him, but I go to work in earnest.
I can feel his cock probing the back of my throat on each thrust. His
hands are in my hair and his hips are thrusting forward in unison with
my sucks. It is turning me on so much that my whole pussy is aching,
nearly cramping. My nipples are yearning to be touched again. I take
one hand away to rub them. Then I slide my hand down under my panties
and slip my finger up inside, just to relieve some of that unbearable
tension. He looks down at what I am doing, and it excites him all the
more. Then he is exploding into my mouth. I practically choke from the
force of it, but I swallow it all, and run my tongue in circles around
his cock, to lick up every last bit. I love hearing the gasps and
grunts he makes as he is coming. I am being truly wicked, my tongue
still active. Then it is overstimulation. He begs me to stop. He is
still rock-hard. I stand up and take his hand.
"Come and rest on the bed. Regain your strength", I tell him,
"You'll need it." Sometimes I'm just soooo bad.
We cuddle under the covers, bodies entwined, and talk about all the
things we have been doing since we last spoke. His humor and his
laughter are infectious. He is a wonderful story-teller, and I love to
watch his animated recanting of past events. I laugh and smile till my
face hurts. In between bits of chatter, we kiss, touch, rub bodies.
This is yet another form of teasing that we are doing to each other.
Finally, I can stand it no longer, and I demand satisfaction.
"You KNOW what I want." He reaches 'round to undo my bra. I let
him remove it, and with one deft motion, it sails over the edge of the
bed and onto the floor. Then he rolls me onto my back, pulls my
panties off, and dispatches them to the floor. He slides between my
thighs. Probing gently into me with the head of his cock. Slowly, so
slowly, barely penetrating me at first. Inching into me. Teasing
again. Such delicious torture! He starts a gentle, sensuous, trusting
that is just another way of tormenting me. He has that evil look on
his face. He KNOWS what this does to me. He is regaining control,
while I am losing it completely.
I grab his nipples and begin to pinch. "Come ON. Give me what I want!".
No response but that smug smile. I arch my back, grab his ass, and try
to move onto him more. He pulls back. Then I try pleading "Please?".
He arches his back, still moving slowly in and out, not fully
penetrating, and brings his lips to the base of my neck. He starts
kissing me there, as he is pumping in and out. The feeling is driving
me insane. I get spiky tingles over my whole body, and begin to writhe
uncontrollably, begging him to stop. That is the ONE spot, (aside from
my clit), which can be used to put me over the edge. I grab his ass
again and try to pull myself hard against him, trying to make him fuck
me harder. I am moaning so loudly, he puts a hand over my mouth. Then
moves his hand and smothers my moans with his mouth. His tongue starts
matching the thrusts. I start sucking gently on his tongue, sliding my
mouth on it, as if it were another cock. I am starting to dig my finger
nails into his back, and he senses I can't take much more. He buries
his face in my neck, digs his hands under and grabs my ass, and begins
to pound into me, in earnest. And I am his completely. The last
vestiges of my self-control are gone, and it feels exhilarating.
Then he stops, and I am quivering, and he whispers in my ear,
"You LIKE it HARD. Don't you." Not really a question, more of an
accusation.
I beg, my voice a soft, hoarse confession, "Yes! Yes, yes, yes. Oh
PLEASE." He pulls out, rolls me over, and gets me on my hands
and knees.
He is on his knees on the bed, thrusting deep and hard into me and I am
nearly delirious. There is a mirror on the wall beside the bed, and I
catch sight of our reflections. Impossible to believe, but the sight
turns me on even more. He looks over, sees what I am looking at, and he
becomes more vigorous. His balls slap against my clit, amplifying the
wet sound of our bodies moving together, and his fingertips dig into the
flesh on my hips. I am on the verge of begging him to stop - it is
getting so intense - and he does.
I can feel him, pressed into me, taking breaths in long draughts, his
cock throbbing, on the verge... I look over my shoulder at him. His
face is flushed, as is his chest. He wants to last a little longer, so
he slows things down. His cock still inside me, he reaches his hands
round my sides, and starts squeezing my breasts. Then caressing gently,
then squeezing. He starts pumping slowly again, and I begin to moan
again. He is rolling my nipples between his fingertips. I reach back,
grab one of his hands, and bring it forward to my face. He stops
moving, uncertain of what I am about to do. I run my tongue along his
palm, and then bite each of his fingertips lightly. Then I begin
sucking on his middle finger. I gently scrape the finger tip with my
bottom teeth, and start sucking in earnest - sliding his finger in and
out of my mouth. I hear a groan. His finger is pulled gently out of my
mouth, but I do not give it up willingly. He grabs my hips and resumes
that insane, wild, hard fucking. I am pushing back against him,
doubling the force of each impact. My arms collapse, and my head and
chest drop to the bed, ass still held high. I grab and begin biting a
pillow, trying to muffle my near-screams of pleasure. I can feel him
swelling up inside me, and then I can feel the pulsing of his orgasm.
He is making the most gutteral, feral sounds, like some kind of animal.
His orgasm seems to go on forever, and he holds me tight to him as he
rides out these waves of pleasure. Then his hands slide forward, and
find my clit. His fingers vibrate side-to-side on it, and even as his
pleasure is subsiding, mine is reaching yet another peak. I rock back
against him as I come again. The sensation is almost unbearable. I
can feel myself squeezing his cock, with each wave of pleasure. Each
time, he gives a little grunt, and another thrust.
Completely spent, I collapse on the bed, still moaning softly, and
struggling for breath. He snuggles up beside me, and holds me close.
His hands stroke the last spasms from my body, and he kisses my forehead
lightly. Even in my exhaustion, I feel that dizzying excitement, that
'rush' that I get when I am around him. Difficult to explain, but it
makes me feel alive. I know he feels it too. He looks invigorated.
"That was an incredible vitamin supplement." he says. An old joke.
I smile. "You could have gotten it from someone else anytime, I'm sure."
"Yeah,", he says, "But it would have been the generic brand. A pale
imitation. I prefer to hold out for the good stuff."
"Flattery will get you everywhere."
"It already has."
Damn, it feels good to be with him again. I can't even feel guilty
about it anymore. It just feels so right. In the background I hear the
dying strains of a song on the radio, and the words are eerily
appropriate:
What about now? Forget about tomorrow
It's too far away.
What about now? Don't talk of Yesterday
Its too far away. Too far away.
Its too far away.
What about now?
It's all about now, right now.
Don't break the spell.....
Vitamin Supplement II
---------------------
He walked into the registration area, and looked around. He couldn't
see her anywhere, yet he knew she was here. Well, this *was* a big
conference, after all. He had seen her company's name on the list of
sponsors, so he knew she should be around today, even though the
whole thing didn't officially start till tomorrow. Why the hell was
he feeling so nervous? Things had been over between them for more
than three years. He didn't feel anything for her anymore, and he
was not sure he ever really did. But the anxiety just would not go
away.
He registered, picked up his information packet, and decided to
go grab some lunch. Maybe even do some site-seeing. His friends
would not arrive till later in the day, and he needed to do something
to alleviate this damned anxiety. As he started out of the
registration area, a flash of something familiar caught his eye. He
turned, and there she was. Surrounded by a group of men, as usual.
He smiled at that, but it made him feel uncomfortable at the same time.
She was laughing and joking and her long hair swayed easily with each
casual movement of her head. Her audience was captivated. God, she
looked good. She had a short, black skirt on, heels, and a silk blouse.
She looked even more beautiful than he had remembered.
He stood there watching her, not sure if he should walk up and say
hi, or wait until a more private moment presented itself. More than
anything, he just wanted to break the ice, the tension, and see if
they could be friends again. Their parting had not been an amicable
one. Then she looked his way, and recognition flashed in her eyes.
She sent him a smile, an almost impish smile, with those big brown
eyes sparkling, and continued with her conversation. It left him
entirely unnerved. She was supposed to be pining over him. She
didn't look the slightest bit uncomfortable. In fact, she seemed
quite enthralled by one of the men in the group, a tall dark guy who
was talking animatedly now. She listened intently and laughed
delightedly at the banter.
He felt a small hard lump form in the pit of his stomach. What the
hell was going on here? He wasn't supposed to feel like this. He
was about to turn and leave the room, when she motioned to him to
come over. He debated declining and leaving right then, but his
pride got the better of him. He walked over to join the group.
"Hi David, I didn't expect to see you here. I'd like you to meet
some friends of mine." She said. "Everyone, this is David Reilly,
from the University of New Mexico." She made the rounds of the
introductions. "This is Paul Lemma, he's from DataComp. Mark
Petrosky, from University of Minnesota. Jack Markham, from USC, and
this is Darren Potter from AT&T." The tall dark guy was Darren. They
shook hands, said the perfunctory "hellos", and shuffled their feet.
Then she turned to him and smiled so warmly he felt his feet melting.
"We're all heading out to lunch right now, would you care to join us?"
He looked for hurt, or anger, or pain in those eyes, and saw none.
He didn't want to seem rude, or show his discomfort, when she obviously
felt none, so he agreed. "Yeah, sure. Where are we going?"
"There is this neat little English-style pub just a block away. We
thought we'd go there. You game?", said Darren. He didn't like the
way she looked at Darren. What was he thinking???!!! It didn't
matter. It shouldn't matter. I am married, he thought. She is
married. He shook his head slightly, as if to banish the ridiculous
thoughts rattling around in there.
"You okay?" said Darren.
"Yeah fine. Sorry. Jet Lag, I guess. I'm into it. I love pub food."
And off they went.
He offered her his arm, as he had so many times in the past, and
Darren did precisely the same thing, on her opposite side. She
chuckled, laying her hands lightly and easily on the proffered arms.
He felt fire run up his shoulder and redden his neck. He wondered if
Darren felt the same, but when he looked over at him, all he saw was
something akin to smug confidence. It unnerved him until he looked
at her. For the first time he saw something crack around the edges of
her calm. Her hand squeezed his arm lightly, and a slight flush came
to her face. Could she feel it too? His head was telling him that
he should not be here. Not when she still made him feel like this.
This couldn't be happening. But he couldn't leave. She was too
compelling.
At lunch he and Darren chatted good-naturedly, but every so often, Darren
would say something which knocked him off balance. The guy had this look
of humor in his eyes, like he was laughing at some private joke. But he
was so witty and charming, and damned likable... Sometimes he thought
she might be kicking Darren under the table, but he couldn't be sure.
Perhaps it was just paranoia setting in.
After lunch, they returned to the conference center. She said she
had some work to do in preparation for the next day, and 2 of the
others drifted off to go site-seeing. They asked David if he wanted
to join them, but he declined. He wanted time to sit and talk to her
alone. He had sat next to her at lunch, and every time she had
brushed against him he'd felt that fire. He wondered if she was
doing it on purpose. Darren hung around too, and asked what she was
doing for dinner. She said she didn't know, but that she'd call him
later. He leaned over to her and whispered something in her ear.
She put on a look of mock reproach, and poked him in the ribs. He
gave her hand a squeeze, planted a peck on her cheek, and left. Call
him later?! That must mean she knew his hotel room number! Why the
hell did this bug him so much? Why was he feeling so territorial?
After all, *he* was the one who had broken things off. He wondered
if she was doing this to try and make him jealous, but nothing about
her manner looked at all disingenuous. At least they were finally
alone. No was in the immediate vicinity.
She looked at him with a most penetrating gaze, and said, "I didn't
think you were coming. I thought you would avoid me again this year."
"I wasn't avoiding you before...I, ", he fumbled with his words.
"No." she cut him off, "You were doing me a favor." For the first
time he saw something akin to fire in her eyes. A kind of smoldering fury.
Now David felt really uncomfortable. "No. That's not it either. Look.
Let's go somewhere private for a drink, so we can talk."
"Ok." She said. "How about my room?"
"I don't think that is such a good idea." He replied.
"Why? Are you afraid I'll pounce on you?! Don't flatter yourself
too much." It could have been said venomously, but it wasn't. She was
almost laughing as she said it. He didn't know if that was worse.
"Or is it that you are afraid of yourself?", she teased.
He couldn't stand it anymore. "Ok fine. Your room. Let's go."
She didn't just have a room, she had a suite. It was very well
appointed. These sponsors get all the perks, he thought.
"Beer?" she asked.
"Sure."
She opened a bottle and poured it slowly down the inside of a glass.
"I have to be careful," she said, "I wouldn't want to get a hard, er,
head on it." And then she smiled that shit-eating grin of hers. He
wasn't sure if he wanted to spank her or kiss her.
She opened a bottle for herself, but chose not to use a glass.
Watching her languidly bring the rim to her lips was torture. Was she
doing this on purpose? She sat on the couch and motioned him to sit
down. He had every intention of sitting across from her, but
somehow, he wound up sitting beside her. How the hell did that
happen?
One thing was bugging him. "So who's this Darren guy?", he asked.
She got a rather mischievous look on her face. "He is a very dear
friend, who has been there for me through some very rough spots in my
life. We met over the net a few years ago. We get together a couple
of times a year." She read the look on his face, and said, "Oh, I'm
sorry. Didn't you know? Collin and I separated over a year ago. I
thought Jim would have told you."
No. Jim didn't tell him. The shit. Probably trying for her himself.
This news made him feel more uncomfortable.
"Darren is very sweet, but a bit of a devil. He knows about you. I think
he was just trying to have fun with you. You'll just have to fight fire with
fire." She almost laughed as she said it.
"Is he your boyfriend then?"
"No....", she paused, obviously looking for the right words. "He's in a
relationship. He lives a thousand miles away. We just enjoy each other's
company whenever we get a chance to get together."
He didn't like what that implied, but he couldn't bring himself to
ask her more about it. She started asking him questions about
his current line of work, and they fell into that easy mode of
talking and joking that had been there when they first met. They
didn't talk about the breakup. He sensed that she felt it was in the
past, and no longer important, somehow.
They talked for what seemed like hours. But instead of feeling more
platonic towards her, instead of feeling like an old friend, he felt
more and more like he wanted to taste those full lips. She sat there
looking quizzically at him, her face just inches from his, her
perfume delicately invading his nostrils. His resistance was fading.
Could she tell? He leaned forward. His sanity departed
temporarily, and his lips met hers, softly. She did not pull away.
It was too late. He had let his guard down, and somehow she had
beguiled him, got past his defenses. He didn't care. He moved
closer, put his arms around her. He felt the round fullness of her
breasts pressing into his chest. He felt her nipples harden through
the silk of her blouse, as his tongue found it's way into her mouth.
A small moan escaped from her lips. Her hands came up and gently
clasped the sides of his face. His jeans suddenly felt far too
tight.
Then she pushed back, put a hand on his chest, and said, "But I
thought you just wanted to be friends. I thought you said sex screws
up friendships."
"I changed my mind."
"The mind you make up so firmly? The one that makes decisions and
sticks to them? That mind? Are we talking about that mind?" She jabbed
at him, but there was laughter in her eyes, and a wry smile on her face.
Her feigned resistance, her laughter, tantalized him all the more.
"I didn't make a qualification on the duration of those decisions."
he countered. He leaned towards her again. For a moment, she
seemed to hesitate, but then she was there, in his arms, kissing him
passionately, pressing against him. He had forgotten, (or forced
himself to forget?) how incredibly wonderfully she kissed. Her lips
seemed to melt into his. He picked her up, much to her amazement,
since she was a couple of inches taller, and he carried her to the
bed. She started brushing her lips softly against his ear, and
breathing hotly into it. It was too much.
He tossed her onto the bed, and leapt playfully on top of her. She
writhed delightedly beneath his body. He began kissing down her
neck, found his way to the buttons on her blouse, and started
undoing them. She had on the sexiest bra. Black lace and floral
satin. It made his cock throb and ache. He pressed his face into
her, and gently nibbled on her nipples through the lace. Her
breathing turned ragged. He cupped each breast in a hand and
squeezed gently. The satin added a silky cool dimension to the
exquisite feel of her breasts. She was running fingers through his
hair, and moaning softly.
"I just want you to remember", she gasped, "who did the 'pouncing'..."
"Do you want me to stop?" He asked.
"I think you already know the answer to that..."
He was straddling her now. She sat up beneath him, her blouse
hanging open, and began to remove his t-shirt. He raised his arms
like a child, and she stopped half-way, with the shirt over his head,
but not yet off his arms. His chest now exposed, she began to suck on
his nipple, while her fingernails ran lightly down the sides of his
chest. He nearly collapsed. He felt trapped and struggled to get
the shirt the rest of the way off. She chuckled, and went for the
other nipple.
"That was a dirty trick." He smirked, pulled her shirt the rest of
the way off, and pushed her easily back onto the bed. He sidled
down her legs, and pulled her knit skirt off. He removed her
pantyhose, and underneath she was wearing high-cut satin and lace
panties which matched the bra. God! he loved sexy lingerie. It
looked incredible on her, with the curve of her waist and her
well-proportioned body.
He reached a hand down, tentatively, and stroked the satin between
her legs. She was wet. Soaking. He brought his tongue down for a
little taste of that tanginess... He thought he'd come right then and
there. Wouldn't that be embarrassing! Now, how to get his pants
off, in some sort of fluid and easy way... But before he could give
it anymore thought, she had flipped him onto his back on the bed, and
*she* was removing *his* pants.
"Should we really be doing this?" He asked, starting to feel nervous.
"What reason do we have, *not* to?" she countered.
"Well, the fact that I am married, for one."
"That never stopped you before. Do you want me to stop?" she asked,
as her fingertip seductively traced lines around his now bare groin...
deftly avoiding the most sensitive and wanting places.
How could he argue against logic like that, when the blood was
pounding in his ears, and all he could feel was his cock throbbing,
wanting release?
"Don't. Stop. Don't. Stop. Don't stop. Don't stop", he whispered.
She laughed huskily at the old joke and countered with another old
old one, "Good. You are looking a little pale. I think you need a
vitamin supplement." Now it was his turn to laugh. With that, her
fingertip was replaced by her mouth. His fingers dug into her soft
silky hair. She was teasing him. She ran the tip of her tongue up his
cock, right to the tip. Then she flicked it lightly. Now *he* was
the one moaning. He tried pressing himself closer to her - tried
applying pressure to her head, to tell her how badly he wanted those
lips around his cock... sucking it. But she wouldn't comply.
Instead, she went to work on his balls, sucking each one and rolling
it around with her tongue. Then, she stretched out one arm, and her
hand found a nipple. She rubbed her thumb lightly over the nipple,
and it hardened to her touch. Just when he thought he would die, for
wanting it, she slid her mouth down on his aching cock. Her tongue
worked circles around it as she slid her mouth up and down, and her
hand worked the shaft. How does she do that?!!! He couldn't stand
it anymore.
He sat up and gently raised her face to his. The kiss was long and
lingering. Then he tossed her onto her back, practically tore off
her panties, and began some oral teasing of his own. Her voice had
been reduced to hoarse gasps as she begged him not to stop. He
debated not giving her the orgasm... He was sure it would push her
over the edge faster. But he couldn't resist her pleas, her taste,
and the way she writhed and quivered to his touch. His tongue
vibrated on her clit, and she shuddered and moaned. Even as her
orgasm was subsiding, slid himself up inside her warm, incredible
wetness. He knew she loved getting fucked after she came.
She gasped, fingers clutching the bedding, reflexively. Her bra had
a clasp at the front. He was proud of how deftly he undid it, while
slowly sliding in and out of her delicious pussy. She was moving her
hips with him, to him, in perfect rhythm. He curved his back, and
his mouth found a now fully exposed nipple. As his lips closed
around the nipple, he set his tongue to vibrating on it, just has he
had done to her clit, only a moment before. She went wild. Her
fingers dug into his back, then his ass. Her hips met his with
reckless enthusiasm. He propped himself up on his arms, and started
pounding *hard* into her, not sure how long he could keep it up. He
was so close to exploding. But he wanted it to last.
He stopped. He brought his mouth up to hers. She was still
squirming against him. He loved it. She was his completely.
Completely out of control.
"No," he whispered into her lips, "No. Slow down. I want to last.
Relax." He stroked her face gently, ran his fingers down her neck,
to the clavicle and drew little circles there. He let his lips follow
the trail of his fingers. Breathing hot lines down her neck.
"How." she gasped, "How. can. I. *relax*. when you are. doing. *that*?"
He felt the urge to come subside a bit, so he raised himself back up
on his arms again. This time, she brought her mouth up to his chest,
and started attacking his nipples again. Oh god, he thought. I'll
never stay in control if she keeps that up, so he began to pound into
her again...deeply. Her head fell back to the bed and she brought
her legs up, to wrapped them around his back. She felt incredibly
tight yet delectably slippery at the same time. She seemed to get
wetter with every thrust.
He had to stop again. He pulled out, and urged her to climb on top
of him. She eagerly complied. Straddling his body, she slid down
on top of his eager cock. Her back was arched, nipples erect. She
was gorgeous. Her hair fell in waves over her shoulders, and
shimmered with each movement. He ran his hands from the fullness of
her breasts, down the sensuous curve of her waist and over her softly
rounded hips. Her breath escaped in one long, slow sigh.
She took one of his hands and said "Man's best friend?", her eyes
full of mischief. She delicately licked his palm. Then she put one
of his fingers in her mouth. It was intensely sensual. No one had
ever done that to him before. She nibbled the tips of each finger
with her teeth, then slid one in and out of her mouth. All the
while, she was moving up and down on him. Her other hand extended
behind her, and tickled his balls with maddening caresses. He knew
he was wearing his "idiot grin" right now, but he couldn't help it.
He was losing control. She could tell. She wore a look of triumph
on her face.
He removed his hand from her grasp and placed both hands on
her hips. His fingers sunk deliciously into her firm flesh. He
grabbed hard, so he could coordinate his own movements with hers.
She reached back and raked his inner thighs with her nails. If he
had been capable of thinking, he might have been worried about the
marks they would leave... But his brain had been taken over
completely by lust. He was no longer capable of rational thought.
She leaned over him, breasts tantalizingly close. He craned his neck
to catch a nipple in his mouth. She leaned closer to help him.
Somehow, she deftly changed the position. She leaned forward, slid
her legs along side his, and pressed her breasts into his chest. Her
hands found their way under him, and clutched at his ass. She
buried her face in his neck. He drank in the softness of her hair
against his cheek as she rode him. She had some kind of unbelievable
muscle control. She brought herself to the top of his cock, slowly,
squeezing the whole time, then let herself slip back down. Every so
often, she would stop this, press tightly to him, and rub her clit
against his pubic bone. She did this over and over. Rubbing and
riding. Rubbing and riding. Then she began to shudder. Her moaning
became louder. Now he knew why she had buried her face. It was to
stifle the sounds she was now emitting. But the moans vibrated
through his neck like the shudders of her body. He couldn't stand
it any more. His thrusting turned vigorous. She eagerly matched
his rhythm and intensity. He couldn't hold it any longer. The last
vestiges of his control were consumed in fiery passionate fucking.
The orgasm was so intense, so prolonged, he felt dizzy afterwards.
He almost couldn't stop coming.
"The never-ending orgasm", she giggled in his ear. He playfully smacked
her bottom.
"*You*. Are a bad influence." he chided.
She rolled off of him, and propped her head up on her hand. "Me?!
I suppose you are entirely without free will? Besides. *I* am the
one who is supposed to be working right now." She snuggled up
against him, and nuzzled his ear. "Bad. You are very, very, bad."
He put his arm around her and rolled on his side to face her. "So
what happens now?", he asked. His hand ran lazily up and down her body.
"Do you mean, 'right now'? Or the rest of this week? Or in the
future?", she replied.
"Yes."
"Rat! You are impossible. What do you want to happen?"
"I don't know. I don't want us to wind up the way we did before."
"Don't worry, no chance of that. My priorities are firmly in
place, and my head is screwed on much tighter than it was then." Her
smile was disarming. "Look. For now, let's just enjoy the time we
have together and have some fun. I'll not be laying any heavies on
you. I know where your heart and your life is. I don't want to
screw that up. We *can* be friends without feeling like there is
some overwhelming obligation attached. Ok?"
"OK. You sure about this?" he was not sure about himself, much
less her.
"Definitely. I have that sort of relationship with someone else
very much like you, in many ways. We satisfy certain needs, that our
other partners may not be able to. It is a very rewarding, fun
relationship."
He wanted to ask who that other person was, but in his heart, he
already knew, and it didn't seem to matter.
"I have to get back to the conference center. Will you have
dinner with me tonight? Jim and Alan are getting in soon, I expect
they will be joining me, as well as Darren. Are you ok on that?"
"Fine. Sounds good." She looked relieved. He was looking forward
to a chance to get in a few verbal jabs at Darren. Now that he knew the
score, it would be easier to parry as well. It should prove to be fun.
Darren was a skilled adversary.
"Ok. Call you around sixish."
He cleaned up, dressed himself, and gave her a long, slow kiss
goodbye. He could tell that this would be one of the best
conferences he had been to in years, and it hadn't even started yet.