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I'm not sure how long I lay waiting, and to be honest I'd almost given in to fatigue when I finally heard his car pull into the garage. My straining ears picked up a creaky floorboard here and there as he made his rounds, confirming that the house was secure for the night. It seemed like hours before I finally heard him walking quietly toward me. Anticipation stretches time beyond reason.
He was very late tonight.
I lay on my side waiting, facing away from the cold spot where his body belonged. I'd folded the covers back invitingly on his side of the bed, and I made sure that his pillow was fluffed up and lying just so. When he finally arrived I listened to him undress quietly in the dark, pause for just a moment, and then climb in. He lay down on his side facing away from me, and pulled up the covers.
"Goodnight, gorgeous," he whispered.
I smiled in the darkness and turned, spooning his naked body with mine, sliding one arm between his neck and pillow, the other over his hip. The difference in our heights meant that my breasts barely reached his shoulder blades in this position, but somehow I still felt like I was cradling him, protecting him, and shielding him from the cares of the day. My hand came to rest on his half-erect cock, the fingers curling around the shaft. I paused for dramatic effect and then began to stroke lightly from the base to the tip and back again, paying particular attention to the sensitive crown. He gasped a bit when my hand quickened its pace. His stiff cock twitched with excitement.
"Just the tiniest bit... tighter..." he whispered.
I granted his request and was immediately rewarded with a quiet groan. His hips began to buck in rhythm with the strokes of my hand, but in the opposite direction, moving against me, heightening the friction and the length of my strokes.
He clutched the arm under his neck tightly with both hands and turned his face further into the pillow, groaning loudly as his hips bucked against my racing hand for the final few strokes. Warm sticky dollops of his seed leapt from the tip of his cock and landed on the sheets just beyond him. His body slowed and he nudged my hand away from the now sensitive organ.
We were quiet for a bit as he caught his breath and came back to his senses. I needed to catch my breath as well. The act of stroking him to orgasm for the first time was even more of a turn-on than I had anticipated, and I was surprised at how aroused I'd become. Judging by the stiffness of my nipples and the ache between my legs, it wouldn't take much to send me over the edge either.
After a while he turned in my arms and cupped my face in his hands. The kiss that followed was deep and passionate. Our tongues explored the damp sweetness of each other's mouths, dancing between bruised wet lips and stroking against each other at every opportunity.
We were still lost in that kiss when, in one smooth movement he pushed me onto my back, bracing my wrists against the mattress and straddling my hips with his knees.
The kiss deepened briefly and then his mouth was gone, leaving a trail of little kisses down the side of my neck. He stopped in the most sensitive spot at the base and began to suck gently, almost driving me over the edge. His hands slid down my arms and came to rest beneath my breasts, thumbs grazing across my hard nipples, dragging a deep moan from between my lips and then moving on, moving lower.
The exquisite sucking sensation at the crook of my neck stopped, to be replaced by a finger diving between the puffy, damp lips of my labia. The finger moved lower, grazing the sensitive bud it found inside, and I moaned and jerked in response. From there it plunged into my grasping cunt, and the attached thumb began to have its way with my clit. Either would have sent me over the edge at that point, but the movement of both together, the anticipation that had been building since I emailed the story to him earlier, and the mental image of my naked body dancing at the end of his finger tips was too much.
I came hard with his name on my lips. The finger and thumb paused and withdrew, tissues appeared as if by magic to wipe away the evidence of our passion, the covers were pulled up, and strong arms cradled me as I drifted in and out of consciousness.
"So you got the little story that I emailed to you at work?" I asked in a whisper.
"Yes, and I'm sorry that it took that to remind me to come home to you. From now on, I'm out by six o'clock. Count on it."
"Alright then. So tell me, what was your favorite part?"
"The climax, of course."
"Both of them?"
"Both of them. But yours especially."
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