1 comments/ 4894 views/ 1 favorites Completeness By: filthmuse Seven fifteen. Seven ... fucking ... fifteen. On a Friday. A Friday, like every other, where I find myself here in the virtually abandoned office, sat before the screaming banality of a computer screen. Stacks of work get done sure. But all this extra work had no chance of being noticed let alone appreciated so why the hell was I still here? Why hadn't I left hours earlier along with every sane person? The answer, quite simply, was that there wasn't much to leave for. Nothing waiting for me at home other than some bad wine, a poorly chosen takeaway, a half watched movie and a stiff neck from falling asleep on an expensive-enough-to-be-more-damn-comfortable sofa. So, for now, this was it. My life. Awesome. People had been gradually leaving over the last few hours. Each one throwing me a polite smile laced with just enough pity to really make it count. The emptier the office grew, the darker and colder it became and by now the air conditioning was compensating for a far fuller office. Goosebumps began forming all over the surface of my skin and I was almost shivering. That's why the sudden warmth hit me so unexpectedly. A warmth that began focused on a single spot on my neck and radiated a heat that spread slowly over my entire body. The warmth from a single breath. The simmering frustration that had been building over the last few hours had such a hold on me that I hadn't noticed the chair wheel up next to mine. That breath was the first clue I wasn't alone and it's effect had me rooted. Immobile. My eyes closed, the hairs and my neck and arms stood on end and every muscle tensed. I couldn't even muster the effort to turn to see who had done this to me. But I didn't need to turn to see who it was. I knew who and I knew why. I'd known something had been coming since it happened and it happened almost exactly one week ago today. It was another Friday. Another frustrating Friday and I was on my way to the ground floor to fetch something dull for something so far beyond tedious it wasn't even funny. Still, it was necessary and the break away from my desk was welcome. Being around 5 the lift was far too full. Everyone, except me, in their coats, umbrellas at the ready, desperate for escape. We were so packed in that his closeness didn't seem out of order at first. The invasion of my personal space was to be expected, so I tolerated it through clenched teeth. But then I felt him shift. Very slowly. Very deliberately against me. The first time I chose to ignore it, willing to give him the benefit of the doubt that it was somehow accidental. Then he did it again. His hips pressing himself into me gently and holding there for far too long before moving away again. That was taking advantage and I felt incensed at this unsubtle effort to gain some cheap thrill from me. I was about to admonish him, scald him for being such a pervert when I caught myself. I knew what everyone would think if I did. It was a crowded lift. Accidentally brushing against each other was a natural consequence. All this he would point out. And since everyone thought, or at least I suspected they thought, I was a little nuts to begin with, they would all side with him. So I decided to just bear it quietly. That I should just be a good girl and do what was expected. Same as I always do. But for some reason that day I didn't want to be good. All my frustrations had just been too much and instead I decided that I deserved to have a little fun. So I edged very slightly and very carefully back in to him until the contact could not be broken. Not by him, anyway. Then I began slowly, almost imperceptivity moving against him. My movement caught him off guard causing a sharp intake of breath. All he could do was stand there and take it. We were so close that the smallest movement had a magnified effect and it wasn't long before his enjoyment became obvious. Feeling him grow so hard against me gave me a glow. Made me feel powerful. The ragged breathing he was trying so hard to control communicated his desperate need and I felt him wrestle with the frustration of all those things he wanted to do to me but couldn't. The feeling of control this gave me only emboldened me further. My hand crept behind me and I lightly brushed my fingers against the inside of his thigh. He nearly leapt out of his own skin and a mischievous grin found it's way onto my lips. I traced my way further up and found my goal. God the heat it was generating was immense, and it was so hard. I nearly lost it right there. Span round ripped it free and impaled myself on it. I nearly give him exactly what he wanted. Let him win. That thought of losing brought me to my senses. I just lightly stroked my fingers along its length. I felt it twitch. He must've been in agony but I needed him to be. I needed him to be in a desperate state of need before I left him. Left him with nothing but his frustration and a very uncomfortable walk to his car. Then I would've won. One small, much needed victory. Just then the lift pinged, signaling our arrival, and we both jolted back to the world. As the lift doors opened and the other occupants of the life filtered out he grabbed my arm tightly. Angrily. He pulled me back and leant in to my ear and whispered, almost growled under his breath "this isn't over" and then just left. I didn't concentrate on work much after that, pondering what he meant. How he would finish things. For the whole week all possibilities went through my mind. Multiple scenarios. I tried keeping them out of my head but the images kept flooding back. My imagination was in overdrive and it was driving me insane. He left me like that for the whole week. He breathes again and the memory rushes away to be replaced again by that heat. Now I was fully aware of him and his body so close that I could feel the heat radiating from his skin. I could sense his strength, his power over me and I became light headed. I wanted nothing more than to move, cross my legs at the very least to create some friction there. To alleviate the ache he had caused. To get some semblance of relief. But I was rooted to the chair. This wasn't as much about sex as it as about power. About control. And he had it, totally, over me. I would have let him do anything he wanted to me right then. Begged him to. But I knew he wouldn't. He was going to do exactly what he wanted, when he wanted. He leans further in, an impossibly light kiss lands just below my ear and I gasp. Butterfly kisses pepper one side my neck as his hand holds and caresses the other. A final kiss at the nape is firmer, more prolonged and agonizingly slow and my neck arches in a vain attempt to prolong contact. I breathe in sharply as a hand brushes over the front my blouse. It's fingers stretch, stroking the underside of my breast while his thumb glances the hard tip. Oh god. I'm trembling now. I will him to move faster but he very obviously wants to take this slow. To tease. He plays with me. Rolling my nipple with his thumb, coaxing it to an impossible hardness. My heart is beating so hard and I can hardly breathe. Buttons are released, his hand moves beneath my top, inside my bra and I finally feel his hand on my skin. His touch is so hot it almost burns. As he gently caresses my breast I'm aware that the warmth of his breath is now beating against my lips, which I subconsciously part. His face is so close and he brushes his lips against mine. His tongue traces along them. I try to lean in to form some more tangible contact but he pulls away. Why is he being so cruel? So vindictive? I feel fingertips on my leg, my thigh. Slowly tracing their way up, increasing my excitement even further until he finally presses his hand against me. Only with the contact do I realise how wet I am. He knows. I can almost feel him smirk. I push against him. Squirm to maximize the wonderful effect but almost immediately he withdraws and I nearly weep in frustration. If I could speak I'd beg him to continue. To stroke me, give me what I so desperately needed. God knows it wouldn't take long. But then I feel it, the sudden rush of air through the gap at the waist of my smart black work trousers. The gap formed by his fingers as they reach down and spread to trace my lips so very slowly. So very lightly. My mouth forms the shape of a moan but the sound won't come. My legs part and I shift in my chair, giving him all the access he needs. I need. His fingers continue their teasing and I try to will them to enter me. To fuck me. Will them to seek out my hard, throbbing clit but he avoids it. Avoids it because he knows how close I am. Each breath is ragged and comes with a moan or a gasp. My fingers claw at the edge of my desk and my legs begin to quiver. "Do you want it?" he whispers, "do you want to come?" "Yes," I barely manage to whisper. "Convince me," he demands. He wants me to beg. Of course he does. I hesitate, some part of me still fighting. Still reluctant to let myself be beaten like this. My defiance lasts less than a second. "Please. Oh god, please make me come." The quivering desperation in my voice was palpable. He'd won. As I resign myself to this he halts his assault and I panic that he'll leave it there as I left him. Alone, desperate and panting. Just as I deserved. But then he returns and gone is the patience and delicacy. He's not holding back any more. No longer being gentle. He's vigorous. Brutal. His lips are on me, his tongue playing with mine and he tastes divine. My blouse, bra are ripped from me and his fingers scrape. Roll. Pinch. The pain is exquisite. His chair is thrust back and he's all over me. My back arches and I grind back against his fingers which are working on me frantically. They enter me. They plough into me over and over; his thumb finds my aching clit and is relentless. I'm so fucking close. His mouth is again next to my ear and he spits words at me. Cruel words. He calls me names. Tells me how much of a bitch I was. How much of a slut I am. How desperate and pathetic he's made me, tells me he owns me. I love every word. Every syllable, which he emphasises with thrusts of his finger, tweaks of my nipples and with hard flicks of that thumb. The frenzy builds and I feel that cock grinding against me. I remember how it felt in the lift. How much I wanted its heat inside me. Filling me. Driving me insane. I remember the images from the week. The week of mounting frustration, of imagined possibilities. Just then my clit is trapped between his thumb and finger as he mouth is on my breast sucking and biting. Suddenly my feet slam against the floor and it starts. My entire body stiffens, shakes and my head is thrown back. I make a sound. A gasp, a scream combined. It's almost inhuman. It's loud. As I finally begin to come down he leans in one more time. He whispers in my ear, causing me to flinch. "Still not done." I had a feeling this was going to be the longest week of my life. Completeness Was with tears rolling down her face, that she looked at her boyfriend. He had used her, and she knew that. Just to get off. It was goodbye, but she said to him some of her views of what a man is, what a boy is, in one letter, she wrote from her guts. She drove for more than one hour, and then she just parked by the side of the road. She wouldn't cry, she promised herself. She called a friend. He didn't answer, she left him a short voicemail message "I need you." After 10 minutes, he called back: "Where are you?" he asked. She said "I don't know I just drove until I got tired." After some questions about some signs she could see, what road she took, he told her to wait for him and stay calm, he was coming for her. He arrived less than 30 minutes later, and he stopped his car after hers. He walked to her car and knocked the window. She opened the door and leaving the car, jump to his arms. He was holding her while she cried. What more he could do? There were no accusations, no resent, for all that happened before. They were lovers, once. Lovers sometimes do fight. They have been apart, but never far from each other mind. One year didn't change it. "My God..damn Allyson, what they did to you," he murmured, while he caressed her head in his chest "You will be alright, don't worry," he continued "you are always alright, aren't you, my petite, remember it." He didn't intend in saying it like that. The nickname, the term of endearment he used for her in the past. But it came back, before he could hold it. She sighed, and said "I missed this," while she was in his arms, and while he did hold her with no hesitation, but with care, as she continued "I missed all of this." Intensity always leaves marks. It never vanish from someone life, what is really strong, and not surface deep. When he looked down at her, in his arms, he couldn't help but also feel the knot in his stomach. She had been there for him before, and new he was there for her. Felt like a magnificent symmetry. "You know I could say many things," he continued "but the quality of you has been always leave me without words when we are face to face." She smiled, the bright eyed smile that made him melt. Attractive, sure, sensual, hell yes, she was very sensual, but frail also, and above all, alive. They had many moments of bright eyes smiles in their affair. The moments they did share, the experiences. She showed him perfection is not attainable. He had a flaw, that he never gave up her, what she meant for him, as a male, and as a human. His marriage survived, but he knew during the whole time after they first met, that he was not strong enough to give up on her. What is curious, is that she saw this persistence, as a quality of him. He didn't had the heart to say it was not. He enjoyed being strong on her eyes, being noble, even when he was not. His mid-life crisis, that she didn't like calling that, left marks. He was older now, he had been older always, but he was drier. He saw things and suffered disappointments, who doesn't, right? Plenty since the first day they met, He was still holding her in his arms when his phone did ring, he answer the call, was his wife. He gave her some excuse, and after sending kisses to his wife and kids, he turned the phone off after hanging up. "You still love her, don't you?" she asked. "Yes, I do" he answered. He told her "Ok, you need a drink, or a tea, something, come with me, in my car." She looked at the car, and said "I can't leave my car here." Looking around, he told her to drive to a specific parking lot, where she could leave her car safe for one hour or so, and he did meet her there. She got on his car, and she was now looking at him, as he started to drive, he could tell, but he didn't want to look at her. "Well, you didn't change much." he said. She laughed "No, Mr doe, I did change," she sighed "I got more scars". He didn't want to get upset, more than that, he didn't want to feel like he did, as he had failed her. "Why you never called me?" he asked. She just looked down, and made her shrugging face "I didn't want to worry you..." came from her sad smile. "You know me better, my petite," he said, looking forward, and as he got to the park he stopped the car, and looking at her, he continued "I always worry about you." he said. She smiled again "I miss this too." He felt compelled to scream at her, but he just spoke in a low voice, to ask her "Why, you stubborn girl, you know I'm your friend, you know we did share a friendship, was not only the sex, damn. You know I worried about you, and I know you did worry about me." "Was not only it, I know," she said. Then she continued, "weird how it means more to me to hear this, than to hear you saying how much you used to desire me." He looked deep in her eyes, saying, "Used?" She was shocked, one word, and he had said it all with this single word, he wanted her still. She lunged forward, and kissed him, and it all came back, the desire that made their affair stay in their memories, the intense hunger that touching the lips just made more strong. He was not sure how he did it, but by the end of the kiss, he was already reaching to her neck. Not because he was horny, his life had taken a turn for the better home. But she would always be something that he couldn't deny himself. Her presence alone, made him feel the hunger, and kissing, well, kissing, was as strong as the first few times. By the time he was kissing her neck, she was moaning, and he just didn't think what would happen, he continued kissing and biting her, while his hand felt her waist. The park was desert, and he told her to get out of the car, he conducted her to a secluded place between the trees, and for few minutes, he just got hold of her, keeping her close to him, with the hands on her back first, then, on her butt, pulling her to him. The whole time apart didn't seem even more than days now, the feeling of her body shivering to his touch, made all very fluid, the licking of her lips, the kissing of the neck curve, the reaching for her hips, the pressure of his erection now, against her body, the hands of his lover close to his chest, while the breathing was elaborated, from both. She would be always directly connected to his basic instincts, he lost any reminiscence of control, as he opened her blouse, and felt her skin in the chest, with the mouth, her bra, being pushed to provide access to her nipples, and he had the gut reaction, of grunting when he took the hard nipples, one side by turn, in his lips, to suck, and bite strongly, as they both felt each other touch. She reached for his waist, and her hands pulled him closer, she wanted him, and she knew it was not lesser, was not just a fuck, was the desire that people sometimes pass a lifetime without knowing. As she said in a shy voice, she, the one that was always shy to him, not a prude, she was a female, a full female, but always was not outspoken, this time, she said 3 words, "I want you." words they said many times, wrote many times, felt many times. Her body being laid down against the grass, over his jacket, his figure, now pulling her jeans down, and looking her body, the look that she knew so well, the look that made her aware as very few things, that the desire he felt for her, was only kept at bay by his care of her. He would abdicate of her, for her own sake, but he could not do it for many things more, maybe, only for his family, and only maybe. His first sight of her panties, years ago, was not more enticing and mouth watering than now. He looked at her legs, and he, still on front of her, in his knees, just did run his hands on her thighs, all the way from the knees, her bended knees, that he pushed apart, down the valley of her womanhood. He didn't say anything, but he was almost biting his lips as he touched her stomach with his mouth, and from there, holding her breasts, lowered his head down her mound, biting the fabric of the panties, and moaning, no, worse, cursing "fuck, you drive me insane." as he had to push her panties to the side, with the tongue, licking her slit, licking it, drenching his tongue on her. She was looking down at him, looking around, the trees, the park, all so far, like a background picture. He was muttering, she knew, his native language words, for delicious, or even better to her ears, my delicious. Her eyes had that still surprised look, the one that always made him devour her more intensely. She know he was not being 'a good lover', he was being selfish, in a way she never understood clearly, her pleasure made any pleasure he had pale, and witnessing her orgasm made his own climax intense like no other experience he had in life. He was licking her clit and sucking it, while she run her hands thru his short hair, less abundant now, but still hair that she had caressed many times while he ate her, a gentle feedback making him know that his touch made her whole. It wasn't long before he had to feel her, more, and one hand reached her mound, while he pressed it, and still, pressed with hand and mouth, like a kid, trying to push a whole pastry into his mouth. Her lips and clit, as he was biting them, didn't hurt, but felt pounding, her hands, he moaned to her "spread it for me, I need it!" she followed thru with it, of course. The trees the only witness, to their fire, the flame that they just could not put out. Her voice, sweet sensual voice, on shocking grunts as he first slide a finger into her slit, slowly and knowingly, he didn't forget her texture, but was always new, he explored her inside, while sucking her, as if he had to memorize her, she giving the indications in her moaning voice, of what was the point, no, the points, the zones that drove her closer to goddess. No matter how many times, and there were many, she looked at him, she could not stop smiling inside, he wanted her, he said it all time, but seeing this, was knowing, he wanted her, as a thirst man want water, in a way it was impossible to deny himself. Many times in the past, he told her "My petite, it is not a noble sacrifice to touch you in the car, to eat you there, to see you cum, and not get off myself, is just like delicious foreplay, just happens to take days and encounters, between our moments in bed, when I can fuck you hard and strongly." His orgasms with her would always be intense, but the more he had tasted her before one of these, the more out of control he was after, the wetter his cheeks, chin, fingers, the more his own member was wet, outside, with the pre-cum, and filled with blood, pumping itself into a harder cock for her, just stiffer as her scent filled his nostrils. She didn't felt the first orgasm coming, she felt it rushing out of her, how proper, that after so long, she had one of these, is fingers may know her, but was not always a squirting orgasm, this one, the first in a long time, was one of these, and she knew as it started building up and she knew, as she started to own it, to push it to one gushing flow of clear liquid out of her sex, in his hands and lips, his face, closed eyes, savoring her. He knew sometimes she just became sensitive after a climax, he forced himself to not bite further not touch her clit further, he just waited her to stop shaking, and said "My petite, I needed this, you can't imagine how much." to her waiting ears. He mounted on her, still dressed, typical, too much in a hurry to undress, and he hold her against himself, he looked down on her, and as she started to cry, he cried together "That is my petite, my strong girl, shush, everything will be fine, tomorrow is another day, you know that better than I do!" he said. She said to him "I'm not crying because I fell hurt, is because I just needed to feel alive, and I had no idea how much." And she looking at his eyes, while he caressed her hair, she again said, "I want you." He said, "I want you, and I want you to feel happy, want you to be well," she reached for his member, and he said "I don't need this now, I can just hold you here and will be as good." but she looked at him, and said, "I want you inside me." He didn't undress himself, he saw her hand take his zipper down, and take his member out, he felt her still wet pussy, as she spread herself for him, and he knew it was ok to be a male now and there, she deserved to know how the distance and the time, didn't made his body forget hers. It was with a sensation of rightness, of completeness, that his member did run thru her slit, and the tip of it, started invading her. She looked his face, as he himself looked down her almost naked body, and saw himself, slowly, enter her, so many sensations and so few words, as he started to slide deeper, in cycles, and in circles, feeling her hips, holding her shoulder with one hand to pull her head to his face, and kiss her, with his drenched mouth, his thrusting hips into her, making her reach to his buttocks, to pull him, as if it was needed, he was not sure when it changed, from the slow movements, to the desperate, biting of neck pounding, and the words slithered between the teeth "damn, I missed you so much, missed this, the body you have, the smile, the face... damn." He was pounding her, deeper as he started to raise his whole front of the body, and hold her legs, spreading them, holding her by her legs in the air, pushing deeper into her, each thrust. He knew he would not take long, it was her grip into his cock, inside her, that made it worse, it was her taste in their kisses, it was her scent in himself. Her hands in his lower back, pleading and inviting and her face, the surprised sensual female, wanting more. He took his hand to her nipples and pinched it "fucking you is always so good." not eloquent, the writer had no words, unusual, he was just fucking her too much to think about words to describe it. It was her own hips moving that gave her the right point to reach, his hands holding her strongly, made it hard to move around, but after it started hitting the points inside her body, she slithered, "yeeess" and she started to convulse, he could not hold it, and he didhold her hair, pulling her to him, and saying: "cum with me, my petite, I want you to feel me inside you to make it delicious." She just did let go, again, and she felt it, as his own climax was, like his member, growing inside her, and his hands, clasped, gripping on her flesh, and his face, in a painful effort, grunting and shouting, for her, for her, it felt right, again, it felt completeness, to be there, reaching climax, for her, inside her, with her.