Urgency

Image from The Alexa Col­lec­tion
with an extra spe­cial thanks to Alexa — it was her post that whipped me into such a sex­ual frenzy.

I walk in the room to find him sit­ting on the bed, peel­ing his dress shirt off. He looks so deli­cious — it takes every ounce of my willpower not to push him back on the bed and rip his pants off. Instead, I stand before him, hands on his well defined shoul­der, rub­bing the tight mus­cles before mov­ing up the strong col­umn of his neck. He moans at my touch, eyes half closed. I don’t think he has any idea of what I want from him.

I push my way for­ward, part­ing his thighs with my legs, step­ping for­ward until I’m right up against the bed. I run my fin­gers through his thick hair, bend­ing slightly to drop a kiss on his full lips. He returns the kiss, keep­ing it brief, like mine, chaste. We embrace, still kiss­ing lightly. “I’m so glad you’re home,” I tell him. He smiles, look­ing up at me, so hand­some, but I need more.

In one smooth motion, I push him back on the bed, strad­dle his waist. I lean for­ward, my hair falling for­ward in a smooth cur­tain to hide us both from the world as we kiss, my hands in his hair, my tongue in his mouth. Tongues tan­gle and he pushes his hands up under the back of my shirt, slid­ing his fin­gers down the back of my shorts, find­ing the lace thong that I’ve already soaked through with my juices. I spread my thighs wider, drop­ping my body against the hard evi­dence thrust­ing through the thin mate­r­ial of his suit pants. I grind myself against him, bury­ing my face in the smooth­ness of his neck, suck­ing and kiss­ing, drop­ping lit­tle bites guar­an­teed to make his gasp and jerk against me. I tell him that we need to get changed, to get out and bike before every­one comes over for din­ner, but that I need him first. It’s been an entire week since I last felt him inside me, and there’s noth­ing to match the feroc­ity of my need once my period’s finally over and done with.

I pull off of him, gasp­ing for breath. I pull my shorts down, not both­er­ing to unzip them, just push­ing them over my hips. My panties fol­low, a lacy pud­dle at my feet. He’s on his feet, pulling off pants and box­ers in one smooth move­ment, then he’s lay­ing back on the bed watch­ing me as I pull my t-shirt over my head, then pull my bra off, throw­ing it some­where behind me as I rush to the bed, to him. I’m on him, strad­dling him again, my legs twined around his, my feet pinned beneath his legs. He’s reach­ing between us, to grab his cock, to rub it against me. He gasps when he finds how wet I am already, and wastes no fur­ther time enter­ing me, push­ing into my tight­ness until I’m bliss­fully filled with his cock and gasp­ing, try­ing to keep my hips from buck­ing and jerking.

I ride him, hands flat on his chest, fin­gers teas­ing his hard nip­ples. My thighs clench­ing as I move up and down his shaft, my motions becom­ing less con­trolled as the plea­sure over­takes me. His hands on my waist, grip­ping my hips, pulling me down to his mouth so he can tongue and taste my nip­ples. The first orgasm is intense, and I bite my lip to keep from cry­ing out as he pinches my nip­ple between his fin­gers, push­ing me into that space where black­ness rises behind my eye­lids and I shock myself by mak­ing high pitched ani­mal noises so feral I hardly know they come from my mouth. He pulls me down to him, tak­ing my mouth with his own, push­ing his tongue between my lips to give me some­thing to suck on while the spasms in my cunt make me crazy.

Sev­eral orgasms later, and my thighs ache. I need more, I need him thrust­ing into me, his fist in my hair. I climb off, beg him to fuck me on my knees as I bury my face in the cov­ers, ass in the air, legs spread the way he likes me. His hands span my waist, forc­ing me into an exag­ger­ated bend, my back arched unnat­u­rally in a way that forces my ass up to him like its served on a plat­ter. The first stroke of his cock goes in deep bot­tom­ing out on my cervix, and I’m bit­ing the sheets try­ing not to scream as he teaches me the mean­ing of the word fuck. He’s mer­ci­less, pound­ing me, grab­bing me by the waist to pull me back up when my knees threaten to give out. He holds back, refus­ing to come until he’s exhausted me.

Later, rid­ing my bike with him, I can still feel the stick­y­ness between my legs throb­bing with each bump and jolt of the road. I look over my shoul­der to see him watch­ing me from his posi­tion behind me, his look so pri­mal that I know exactly what he’s think­ing about. I blush deeply, and look away, won­der­ing if tonight’s love­mak­ing will be so rushed, so des­per­ate, so urgent…or whether our beasts have been sated, for the moment.