0 comments/ 9286 views/ 1 favorites Meeting Him By: rosieredcheeks Silently, she knelt in the center of the room, facing away from the door. Hands resting at the small of her back, she thought about the preparations she had made. Everything had to be perfect, she wanted it so for Him, the One who would come soon. Her heart wanted nothing more than to please him, and much effort and care had gone into preparing for this day. He had asked for her best efforts, wanting to see just how well she could ready herself and her surroundings to enhance his pleasure, and so her day had begun. The room itself was arranged with Him in mind. On the neatly made bed lay several pillows, she knew he often liked using them to prop or arrange her position to suit his desires. Already attached to the corners were the leather restraints, needing only her outstretched limbs to fill them. Adjusted perfectly, they would hold her firmly in place, allowing only a minimum of movement should she begin to squirm under His attentions. On the nightstand and nearby dresser, favorite toys were arranged with care. Nipple and clit clamps, weights, leather and wooden paddles, the riding crop, the whip and the cane.......dildos, vibrators, anal plugs large and small...beads, gags, blindfolds...all were within easy reach. Candles burned in several spots, making the semidark room enticing, Enigma played from a CD player, the beat speaking of things yet to come. His favorite drink chilled in a bucket of ice, a glass beside it for Him to drink from, should he be thirsty. The room was perfect. Knowing this, her mind began to go over her own personal preparation, making sure she had missed nothing in preparing her body and mind for Him. Beginning with cleansing enemas, she had endured the cramps they sometimes brought, knowing that her ass belonged to Him and that when he chose to play with it, he wanted it clean, inside and out. Carefully shaving, she had made sure her armpits, legs, and cunt were silky smooth and completely bare for Him. Showering, followed by body lotion, made sure she smelled nice. Her clean hair was soft and silky falling down her back. Nails neatly shaped and polished on both fingers and toes. She was ready, and waiting for Him. Glancing at the clock on the table, she knew He would be here any minute. Her mind began to go over His instructions, not wanting to fail him, heat rising in her cunt at the thought of what was to come. "I want you ready" He had said......"and I will be checking to make sure you have done as I asked. Should your preparation be pleasing to Me, I will allow you that which you crave." Oh how she wanted this reward, having been denied it for a week now because of her carelessness in preparing herself. No more would she rush through a shave, or neglect her nails, doing so did not please Him. Hearing His key in the lock, her breath quickened but she did not move. All was up to him now, she would wait with her eyes down as He had instructed, until told to do otherwise. Making sure she sat straight, ass resting on her heels, hands behind her, eyes on the floor between her spread knees, she could only hope her presentation was pleasing. Candles flickered in the air movements created by the opening and closing of the door. Hearing it close behind Him and the lock turn, her nipples hardened in anticipation. His footsteps moved around the room, and there were small noises as he picked up and replaced an object here and there. She dared not look up or speak, she would not do so until told. His silence told her nothing, and her heart picked up it's pace when His footsteps circled around her and then stopped in front of her, His feet just within her field of view. The silence grew deafening as she waited for Him to speak, holding steady in her position, knowing this was what He wanted. "Stand" He said. One little word, but it brought her to her feet gracefully to stand before Him. Feet spread, hands moved to the back of her neck, underneath her hair, elbows held to the side......this is how she had been taught, this is how the inspections begin. Eyes must be kept lowered, and silence maintained. This ritual she knew. He moved in a circle around her, not speaking, only looking at her naked form. Behind her, His hands stroked her hair, sliding down her back to her asscheeks, His touch sending shivers of pleasure shooting through her. Moving back in front of her, His hands guided her elbows a bit further back, giving her tits a bit more lift and projection toward Him. After testing their bounce, he squeezed them gently before pinching her already hard nipples, gently at first, and then harder, watching her carefully as he pulled and stretched them, hearing her breath quicken as her desire grew. Bending at the waist, he suckled them, bit at them, stretching them before letting them slide between His teeth as His hands slid down her ribs, past her waist to her hips. She began to tremble slightly as His hand slid down, then back up, and between her thighs. Running his fingers carefully and thoroughly around her outer pussy lips, He checked for any stubble she might have missed. She knew what would happen if He found any, she would be bound spread-eagle with her knees high and wide, exposing her pussy as he yanked them out by the roots, one at a time, counting them for the blows she would take from the cane should He find any. Finding none, He moved her hands behind her back again. Cuffing them there, He then fastened clamps on her nipples, tightening them till her soft moans told Him they were having the desired effect. "Come with me" He said, grasping the chain between the clamps and leading her the few steps to the table nearby. His hands guided her, bending her at the waist, her chest and belly resting on the table. Light slaps on the insides of her thighs caused her to spread her feet further, before His hands and lips trailed kisses down the backs of her thighs and back up again. Smacking her ass hard, two or three blows on each cheek, He reddened it,and she knew this pleased Him. He liked her ass red, liked seeing His handprints decorating that which belonged to Him. He slid a finger into her wet and waiting cunt, and then another. Fucking her with His hand, while the other rested on her back, holding her in place. Harder and deeper He rammed His fingers, her juices allowing them easy penetration and His ears no doubt enjoying the whimpers of pleasure His touch brought from her. Sliding them out, He circled her asshole, using her own juices to lubricate it before pushing just the tip of one finger barely inside. "Are you clean here as well pet?" He asked...waiting for her nod in reply before pushing His finger deep, all the way to the last knuckle, bringing a low moan from her throat. A second finger joined the first, fucking her ass once finding it clean, joined by a third to stretch her opening. Twisting and turning His fingers inside her, He was happy in seeing she had taken care to prepare this which was also His. Withdrawing His fingers, He spoke again. "You know I want this open and ready...wait here, do not move." Coming back from the dresser where the toys were laid out, He pushed the tip of a plug against her asshole. She began to realize it was the large one as He pushed it deeper, telling her to breath and relax, take it, take it all, for Him." Finally getting the plug in through her groans of mixed pleasure and pain, He wrapped Hand in her hair, pulling her to her feet, kissing her deeply while giving the chain to the clamps she still wore on her nipples a hard yank. Pulling her head back by her hair, He brought her face up to His so their eyes met at last. She could see in His eyes that He was pleased with her, and He wanted her. His hands on her shoulders pushed her to her knees, standing upright on them, she waited, watching His hands move to His own zipper. Her heart beat faster in anticipation as He freed that which she had longed for...His cock. Seeing it spring free of His pants, she tried to move to it, kiss it, lick it, taste it...but His remaining hand in her hair held her back, tilting her head to look up at Him. Meeting His eyes, she let her own plead with Him, knowing He had so much more control than she, He could still deny her the joy of sucking Him if her preparations had not been pleasing. Looking into her eyes, He whispered four words she had waited to hear. "Well done, My pet." And then He pulled her head forward, as His other hand guided His stiff and already dripping cock to her mouth, covering her lips and cheeks with His precum before increasing the pressure, pushing His cock past her lips into her hungry mouth. Tears of joy came to her eyes as her tongue lapped at Him and she sucked Him. Both hands now in her hair, He fucked her face, driving His cock into her throat, once again allowing her to serve Him as she loved to do. Pulling back from her mouth, and lifting her to her feet, He smiled into her eyes, removing her clamps and sucking her painful nipples to bring the bloodflow back to them. She begged for one more taste of Him, pleaded for another chance at pleasuring Him, telling Him how she craved the taste and feel and smell of His cock, and how sorry she was that He had needed to deny her. Hearing His promise of more to come later, after He had finished what He planned for her, she felt herself led to the waiting bed. "You have done well, MY pet..and your reward will be as you want, you will have more than just a taste of My cock and My cum...but first, I have a few things I want to do with you......" Meeting Him The clothes were ripped from my body and I was pushed to the bed. I lay there, propped up on my elbows to watch him strip himself. I reached out a hand to help and he knocked it away. He crawled onto the bed with me and pressed his fingers over me, testing my wetness. He pushed my hands above my head, my knees pushed wide and thrust sharply into me. I cried out and raised my knees higher, allowing him full access to my tight pussy. His thrusts were deep and hard, penetrating me fully before drawing back. I gripped his hair in one hand, urging his mouth to mine as I wrapped my legs around his back, drawing him closer to me. I boosted myself up with the other hand, pushing him back on his heels and me into his lap. I barely managed to push myself onto him when he lifted me off. I found myself lying on my stomach as he administered a sharp slap to my ass. I tried to wriggle away from him but he held me firm by the hip as he completed a count of 10. He leaned over me to whisper in my ear. "I fuck you, you don't fuck me. Understand?" I nodded yes. His hand moved to my hair and held tight. "I asked if you understand?" "Yes Sir." I shivered at his words, spreading my legs, urging him to enter me again. He complied, resuming his earlier pace. He rubbed his hands over the reddened flesh of my ass, soothing away the pain he had inflicted. He reached under me to grab my breasts, kneading the flesh roughly in his palms. I gasped and tightened myself around him, feeling close. He stopped and pulled himself from me as I let out a groan of frustration. "So close..." He turned me over to see his grin before picking me up fully off the bed. I wrapped my arms and legs around him as he carried me into the kitchen and deposited me on the table. He urged me to lie on my back as he scooted my hips close to the edge of the table. He lifted my legs and pushed my heels onto the table, keeping them pressed against my ass and leaving me open for him. He pushed slowly into me, running his hands from my breasts to my hips in one smooth long line. He set a rough pace and I held onto the edge of the table. I lifted my leg and placed it on his shoulder. A sharp sting registered the fact he had slapped me across the point of my breast. He looked at me very deliberately as he lifted my leg and placed it back on the table. I got his point loud and clear. He pressed his thumb on my clit as he pounded into me. I grabbed my ankles to keep them from sliding off the table with the force of his thrusts. He used his other hand to expertly tease my nipples, pinching the hard points and pulling them enough to cross from pleasure to mild pain. My entire body was tensed with holding myself where he wanted me when my orgasm hit with a rush. I lifted my knees and grabbed his ass to pull him in deeper, restricting his movement. My back arched off the table as I quivered, feeling my juices gush from within me to trickle onto the table below. I opened my eyes to see him staring down at me. I quickly lifted my heels back onto the table, realising I had let them fall when I came. His hand skimmed across my breast, leaving a sting in its wake. I made a futile attempt to cover them with my hands but he took my wrists in one hand as he used the other to slap the opposite breast. Both received the same treatment twice more and I had no option but to take his hands attentions. "Stand up." I hurried to comply with the order, using the table to lean against. I didn't quite trust my knees to hold me just yet. He patted my ass to urge me to walk in front of him and I made my way back to the bedroom. I took a seat on the edge of the bed and slid back to lie on it. He pressed my hands above my head and secured them in bindings already there. I gave them a testing tug, just enough to see I only had a few inches of movement. I lifted my head to watch him take each of my knees, one at a time and secure them. I was left spread wide open, just beyond the point of comfort. His mouth moved to my nipples, taking each sensitive bud in his mouth and between his teeth. He sucked each one deep, before letting it slide slowly out. He blew cold air on them, causing them to harden even further. I pulled on my bindings, desperate to hold him to me. I moaned and arched my back, trying to follow his mouth as he pulled away. He chuckled and flicked his fingers over the tight points, causing me to jerk back. He ran his tongue roughly over each point one more time. He grasped himself in one hand and began to slowly stroke his cock, still hard and glistening from a combination of my wetness and his pre-cum. I pushed my pelvis up towards him. The movement was greeted with his hand meeting my pussy sharply. I moaned loudly in desperation, I needed him inside me at that moment. He pressed the head of himself against me and slowly pushed the head of his cock into me. I whimpered from the effort of not thrusting myself onto him, wanting him buried deep inside me. He slid in another inch and I made a low keening sound deep in my throat. Another inch and I gasped, closing my eyes. "Open your eyes." I obeyed, bringing them to meet his. He forced the rest of himself inside me quickly. "Don't cum." I was already halfway there when he issued that command. I wrapped my hands around the bindings that held my wrists, holding them tightly to focus on not screaming my way into another orgasm. He set a rough pace, entering me as deeply as possibly before withdrawing completely. He slid his hands under me and cupped my hips, lifting me and opening me even further for his pleasure. "I can't, I have to..." He kissed me, silencing my protests. He moved his mouth to my neck. "Cum." I did so instantly. I moaned loudly, closer to a scream. I felt him enlarge inside me where I was grasping him tightly. He came too, holding tight to my hips and sinking his teeth into my neck. I lay with him cradled between my thighs as he gently pushed his now softening cock into me a few more times, keeping his eyes concentrated on me. He brushed his lips against mine as he slid out. He left the room. Left me lying there with his cum sliding out of my well-used pussy. Meeting Him Starbucks. Same seats. Sames tables. Yet filled with strangers. I am wearing my striped wrap-around dress with the low neckline. I am at my computer, hiding behind my words, behind my rapid typing, looking at the screen, yet peeping out and looking around, trying to see if I can notice someone noticing me. He and I have been chatting online for weeks and now I am here. In person. No more hiding behind my racy flirt emails. My nerves are churning, burning, behaving with horsey childishness of someone who is behaving on the edges on normalcy. That is what was happening. Normalcy is surrounding me and it is as if I am in an invisible bubble of craziness. I wait there for him. A man, about my age, walks in the door. His eyes shift to and fro. Is that him? I drill my eyes into this screen, hope to sink into it, to reclaim my sanity by simply keeping my fingers typing, moving over the keys. Words make sense. Sense is sanity. I look up and see him. Short brown hair. Clean shaven. Nice fitting jeans. A button up, untucked by neat looking. Piercing blue eyes and soft creases in his cheeks. He's obviously spent a lot of time smiling. My heart starts thumping like crazy, I am having a heart attack. I both loathe and embrace this erratic feeling. Our eyes meet and I smile at him. He smiles and nods. It's him. He walks over to my table and looks down at me. He can probably see down the front of my dress. That thought warms me between my legs. He smiles again, "Hi." "Hi." He stands in front of me and for some reason that alone is turning me on. A wave of red shoots from my jaw upward. He grins and takes a sip of his coffee, winces and then smiles again, "Wow, that's hot. Mind if I join you?" I shake my head. "Beautiful morning out there." "Yes," my fingers pause on the keyboard, as if they are waiting to be alone again and start writing. "And you are too." A heat wave of blush rolls over my cheeks again. I know the words that have already come between us. Pussy. Lick. Suck. Tease. How can I act like they haven't? What the fuck was I doing here? "So." He drums his fingers just beyond my cup. He too knows what I've said, what he's said. Our past words weigh us down. "Should we head outside?" I shake my head. Smile. "Okay. So, you're a writer?" "Yes." "What are you writing about?" "This," My fingers finally unlock themselves and I press save. I want to crawl into my screen. It's so much easier when it I am a character who is looking out at a scene on the pages. "Oh, let me read it." He grabs the top of my laptop but I close it first. He chuckles, "So that's how it is?" "Yes." "I like your dress." "Thanks." "I like how I can see down the front of it." He takes a sip of coffee and smirks. I look around and my heart that beats as wildly as I've ever known it, and then increases a little more to the point where it seems like it can't speed up any more. I don't say anything, because how do I respond to that? He says, "Let's go for a walk." "Okay," I pack my computer into its bag. He opens the door for me. I smell his cologne. Deep woody scents with a clean undertone. Just showered. He walks me to my car. We say nothing, but the sexual pull is there and I know it will take all of my energy to pull away from it. I unlock the door, he leans over to me and whispers, "You're really sexy. You know, I'd love to get a look at that extra special trim job you told me about." I draw in my breath silently, a quiet gasp. Because what else could I do? My body not aligned with my mind feels the intensity of his words. Wetness spreads across my panties. My clit is completely engorged, begging to be touched. I want the feeling to stay. I want to rip open my dress and let his teeth draw in my nipple and bite down. I want it all. "I can't," I pull back, yet I don't climb into my car. "You can do anything you want." He rubs his hand over his chin, like he has a beard there, but his skin is bare. Makes me want to know what it'd feel like against my thighs. "Yes. But here's the thing - I don't want to. Well, of course I do want to. Really. Want. But I just don't want to want to. Shit." "That's fine. I understand." He smiles only slightly and rubs his chin again. That movement alone draws me in, seeing his hand, his fingers. I imagine what it would be like to get undressed in front of him and to see him undressed. I sit down on my front seat. I can feel his eyes on me, watching my body. He says, "I'm happy to enjoy the view." Words escape my mouth without a thought, "How about I give you one more view that you'll enjoy." He moves in closer against the open door and softly touches my shoulder. Somehow he knows by saying nothing, he encourages me. I open the bottom of my wrap around dress and expose myself to him. I've enjoyed the panty-free feeling all day and now there was a reason for it. His other hand goes to himself and I believe I hear him gasp. The sound of his breathe makes me snap my legs shut and drop my head onto my steering wheel. I talk into the black plastic steering wheel, "I have to go." But I don't. I close my eyes and send myself somewhere else, maybe I am younger, for sure I feel sexier, the fun, wild feeling of being sexy, having someone want to touch you, really want to. I slowly put my legs together, but my dress remains open. He squats down and whispers, "Can I?" He moves his hand over my lap, hovering over my exposed self. I want myself to say no. So much of me wants to stop myself that I don't know why it doesn't happen. Slowly his fingers move down my crease, his mouth is by my ear. He is only breathing in it. "More?" he whispers and again I say nothing, but my legs separate, which of course is an answer. His fingers probe deeper and gently grazes the edge of my clit. It can't be. This can't be... is all I can think. "I've got to go," I finally push him back. "Ok," He pulls back. It is all a blur. But my body takes over again and I pull at his hand. He leans down to me again. I put his hand between my legs. His lips land on mine. His tongues plunges and laps at me, telling me exactly what he wants to be doing on another part of me. Since I am still in the blur, beyond any recognition of reality, I push my wet pussy into his hand. His fingers sink into me and I kiss him back, pushing my lips into him, releasing my intensity into his mouth, into his hand. I look down and watch his fingers fiddle and fondle me and I take picture after picture of it in my head, promising myself that this is the only time, that the reason I am doing this is to hold onto the fantasy, bring it out as needed and use it as a way to stay sane, to accept what is, to allow myself to stay where I am at. He keeps at it, steadily and rhythmically, I see him watching his hand too. A shiver runs through me; it was one of those shivers that make you want to rip off your clothes and keep going. He pulls back and is so hard. I want him to take care of it. I want to watch. I move over to the passenger seat and let him in. He has pulled his pants low enough to let himself out. I reach over and touch him. He pulls back my dress at looks at me. I spread my legs so he can look. And he does. His hand moving steady and strong. I cross my legs and pull down my dress. I need to leave. I don't know how we do it, but we climb into the back seat and he pulls my dress above my knees. I pull it back down a bit and he slides his hand part-way up my thigh and stops. The spot where his thumb seems to burns and I almost want him to pull it away. He looks up at me and grins his squared-toothed grin. We kiss again. His hand remains on my thigh. I want more. I take his hand and move it further up my thigh. His fingers graze the outer edge of my pussy. I lean back. He nuzzles his head between my legs and kisses my thighs gently and then from out of nowhere quickly bites down hard and releases. I gasp aloud. I lift my leg and put it over the front seat. He readjusts and then pauses and admires my work. "So nice and short. All for me?" I nod and won't tell him that I tried it out on my husband already and he hardly even noticed. It did not entice him to lick me, to fuck me. But now I have someone who notices. My legs spread as if instinctual, as if I can't do anything but succumb to his touches. In that moment I know that I won't regret it, I won't regret being touched like this. His tongue is on me in short surprising bursts. My clit is alarmed and beating with such happiness, such pleasure, such delight. He jams his fingers up inside me and continues to lick, to tease, to bite, to suck. All of it so welcomed. A familiar warmth of pleasure washes over me. I forgot how nice it is to have a man who likes to lick you and licks you with purpose, taking you into such uncontrollable pleasure. It is delightful. I unwrap the top of my dress and unhook my bra. I fondle my tits and then unbuckle his pants, I want to touch him too. I reach around and stroke him while he sucks me. Is this really happening? Am I really here? I arch my back and move uncontrollably, as if my clit is in charge of all my muscular movements. He shoves another finger of his into me and now he is fucking me with his hand and licking me at the same time. I lean my head back and wish that I could make this feeling last, beg the gods of lust and irrational behavior to let this last. I arch my back and let the shudder of my orgasm roll through me, and he doesn't stop. He slowly laps at my tender clit. As I recover, he pulls back and now I get to watch him. He strokes and rubs himself up and down, over and over, with increasing speed and cadence. I reach over and put his balls in my hands and feel him rock himself into his own ecstasy -- so in control of it all -- first me then himself. He lets out a moan, a moan that rocks him back beside me on the seat and he shoots his cum out, some of it spraying the back of the front seat. He reaches over and bites down on one of my nipples. I am surprised how good it feels. He reaches around my neck and pulls it toward him and then kisses me deeply again, forcing me to taste myself. I glance at the clock. It is after 3:00. We clean up. Straighten hair. Quietly. Because what do you say after something like this? Neither one of us want to break the spell of the moment. Part of me wants to thank him, another part of me can't even look in his eyes. "We should get ourselves home now." He draws his finger along my neckline. It makes me shiver. I wish it didn't. Makes me want to go at it again. But we do what we should. We part. Meeting Him I order a strawberry daiquiri. This afternoon is different, I usually do not drink during the day. It's not that I'm nervous; it's anticipation. My body is at the hotel, but my mind is already up in the room he'd booked earlier in the week. I'm an hour ahead of him, until I stop and remember to savor the time that will always be the time just before. I feel the prickles in my shoulders and all the way down to my painted toes, clotted-blood red, peeking out of my 40s-style heels. I've felt this excited expectation before. There was that first time, when the tension was a tightrope, like the one that crazy French guy strung between the twin towers. It's amazing, I think, as I sip my daiquiri, that my 3 a.m. fantasies had come true, that I'd somehow made them happen just by thinking. I'd imagined that out-of-town tryst as I'd lain in bed, quietly willing myself to cum. Within a few months, you were there beside me. The fantasizing beforehand had made it feel more like a natural progression, as if there had been dates before that night. When I look back at that night, that morning, it's the little things that still stir me. Sharing a drink, swapping the briefest of eye contact each time we passed the glass back and forth, all the while feeling the lust between us. Sitting next to you, watching your hand tap the table as the jazz music played. Walking through the lounge entrance as you held out your arm for me to lace mine through. Then, once we were in our room, in the dark, there were the visions of what was about to happen. I'd told myself months earlier that I just wanted that moment. If I couldn't have your weight on top of me, I wanted to feel the weight of possibility upon me. This is what I thought of when it happened, in that room with the heavy curtains drawn to shut out the morning light. Then there was talk of a nap followed by breakfast downstairs, but your were already under the covers when I came out of the bathroom into the darkness, not knowing what to take off and what to leave on. When I slipped under the blanket, the only sound was the faint hum of hotel air-conditioning. Time didn't stand still. I could feel the seconds tick past, and knew that if I didn't make up my mind soon, or if you didn't move, that I'd drift off to sleep and that elaborate dance that had led us to this moment would be for nothing, except perhaps an awkward feeling when we woke up. When I finally rolled onto my side, I felt like a child reaching into a lucky dip, holding out my fingers to feel for the prize I couldn't see. I was terrified that you'd brush me off and we'd have to have that conversation, but I knew I no longer had a choice. With the heat of your body connected to mine through the palm of my hand on your chest, my thoughts dissolved. I just was. I was my body without thoughts. I was the sum of my own movements. Minutes later, I realized that you could still call a halt to it all, to where my hand had moved, to what I was doing. It wasn't until more minutes had passed, when I took you out of my mouth and glanced up to see your head thrown back, eyes closed, lips apart in a slight "O" that my awareness disappeared and I slipped back into pure want. I was only jolted out of my slow, sleepy enjoyment of you when the unexpected happened, when you did something to me that no one ever had, or has since. This I would see as the lynchpin of the entire experience; the thing that obliterated any chance of me ever getting over it. I couldn't and wouldn't forget; I wanted it again. It was so new, dirty, and hot. There was no time to protest, to process. All I could do was give in to it, be taken over by it; flipped over, taken. We stayed in that bed for a few hours more, but already I was yearning to have you like that for the first time all over again. From where I sit at the bar, I can't see how that feeling of connection will ever go away. I can get caught up in thinking about the two of us together, and it's like nothing else matters. Whatever this is between us, it exists on its own, in relation to nothing, no one else. I try not to let myself think beyond that room, or the other rooms. I don't let myself wonder what it would be like to come home to you, to have you pull me down onto the couch, onto you, when I walk in the door. When I get to thoughts like that, I quickly pull myself back to safety. The way we talk to each other in the real world helps, we can joke and laugh together as if we're old lovers. Sometimes, I can get myself on a track where I don't think about any of it for days, but then my mind betrays me and I dream a dream where you're sitting next to me at some party, where you lean over and kiss my bare shoulder. Whenever I conjure up that first time, trying to make myself feel what I felt with you there, I wonder how anyone could go on living their mundane lives, day after day, after experiencing such pleasure. How could it be that you still had to buy milk from the deli, or stand still on the subway amongst strangers, or answer emails and write memos, all those things, when this was possible? I remember the way you stroked my arm as we lay there, drowsy but not done, ignoring the alarm, ignoring faint cell phone rings from beneath layers of discarded clothes. I thought we'd have to get up. That would be that. Then you asked me to have a shower with you. The bathroom light was harsh, but I liked seeing your face, seeing what I was doing to you. Under the spray, I sent a prayer of thanks to the hotel architects for placing the soap holder right in the middle of the shower wall, where I was resting against it. You stopped to adjust position, propping me up higher and adjusting my legs around your waist. Later, I will realize that I have developed a soft spot for motions like this one, for the actions themselves. Somehow the thought of them makes the memories come rushing to life in a way like nothing else. Back then, all I could think of was how it felt as you fucked me against the bathroom wall. This would become my go-to moment for taking myself over the edge. If I took myself back to that shower and I imagined that motion, the up and in, the idea of pulling you in deeper, higher, up, up, up, until you hit that part of me that made me gasp, if I could really imagine it and clench my muscles, the thought alone could be enough to make me cum. There would be more go-to moments, but I didn't know that then. I decide to stand at the bar, wondering how I look in my black dress. I want you to walk in and see me like this, one leg bent slightly behind the other, so my silhouette makes a long, lean S-shape. I think about the way the dress makes my ass look and think about myself upstairs in a matter of hours, lying naked face-down across the bed, you leaning over me, resting on that ass. I picture it, I feel it, and my face flushes. I have thought about what I want to do to you, despite a vague sense of doing so being a jinx. There are scenes I have crafted in my mind. In one, I writhe above you, my back to you as you slump in a chair. I want to dance for you, but for the dance to slip into something else, for you to take control of me, in the chair in the room upstairs. I imagine myself sitting at the end of the bed, pulling you to me roughly by the waistband of your jeans. It's the motions. I imagine walking across the room to where you're sitting on the window ledge, on a chair, anywhere and lifting a leg over your lap, straddling you. It's that movement of my leg over yours that does it for me. I imagine you laying back, but propped up on your elbows, watching me as I'm about to cum, wanting so badly to make me, holding me firmly on the waist...watching. You'd know when it was about to happen, you'd see it on my face. You'd feel it and you'd give me that look, a raised eyebrow, a look that said, "Like this?" And I'd say yes without saying a word and you wouldn't be able to take your eyes off me as I moved on top of you. I'd seen that look "Like this?" before, elsewhere in the city, sitting in an empty bathtub. There was one thrust, a jolt that made our eyes lock. The look said, "Are you feeling this? You are, aren't you? My god, what is this?" It was a moment where nothing else mattered, where the world could come crashing down around us and as long as we stayed just like that and held onto each other we could survive anything. Then the gaze broke and I leaned forward to bury my head in your neck. Later, we talked, I'd look at you and something would make me think: What did my face look like from your vantage point in that tub? My hair was wet, the water from the shower was falling on my back, dripping from my silver earrings...but how did I look to you there, my mouth open, my eyes full of what I was feeling? Even though I still thought about you when I was alone in bed, I didn't know how not to. This is the way I like to think of it, in a movie-scene kind of way. I like to think that your eyes lit up, like mine did, when you saw me. That you liked walking in that hotel lounge wanting to see the love of your life and you're thinking, I want her. The night took us where we thought we'd never get to again. When you started stroking my waist as we stood in that hotel room, my breath caught. I was afraid to move. Even through fabric, I felt the heat of your touch everywhere, and I didn't want you to ever stop. I would undo myself even more by turning to kiss you and by lifting my hand to stroke your cheek as we kissed. Later, when I reached up to pull back my hair, to revel in just how good it felt, to look into your eyes, there it was, the moment you said, "You're so fucking sexy." Hearing those words thrilled me to the bone. They gave me a glimpse of what it might feel like to be you, to be sitting where you were, to have me on top of you, to see what you were doing to me. As I wait, I retreat back into my senses. I think about how you smell, how intoxicating it is, how I inhaled the smell of you that last time, when I had lain down on top of you, my breasts bare, but still in my thong. We kissed so slowly. Then, holding back and then giving in, savoring it, feeling the enormity and the futility. I woke up the next day still able to smell you, and god, how I wanted to hold it inside and never breathe out. Only later did I realize that it was the smell of the two of us combined. I think about this afternoon wanting to be with you and not have the clock lingering in a corner of my mind. I want no distractions, no other thoughts, just the feeling of the two of us, alone. I want to feel you complete me again like no other has been able to unleash those feelings within.