The Meeting

Her stomach is full of butterflies, clenched in a nervous knot. She
paces back and forth, passing the other anxious people. They are all
waiting. She is waiting for him, the one who fills her mind. “What
insanity prompted me to do this?” she thought. Yet she knew. Their
connection had been instant, and lasting. For months, they had been
arranging the clandestine meetings, as they were both unable to stop
thinking of the other.

Finally she sees him, walking out from the airport terminal. As
always, she runs into his arms, instantly safe and secure through his
strength. Yet she is also a touch uncomfortable because he sees right
through her into that deepest part of herself. A quick kiss, a
touching of lips, yet somehow this simple embrace reminds them both of
all the passion that always rises between them. “I’m so glad you’re
here! How was your flight?” As they walk back towards the baggage
claim she peppers him with questions in an attempt to disguise her
nervousness. Inwardly she wonders if he likes what he sees.

On the drive home, back to her small apartment, they lapse into the
conversations that have kept them going. No one understands her as
well as him, can talk about so many things, real things, as he can.
Once inside she is not sure what to do. The apartment seems cramped
when filled with two.

He is tall, about six foot three, his training shows through in the
wide shoulders and tautly muscled arms. His legs are powerful from
years of running and long-ago high school athletics. His lightly
tanned skin is a testament to the Florida sun where he makes his home
for now. Blondish hair, cropped in an adaptation of the classic
military crew, just long enough so she can run her fingers through it.

His movements seem scripted, and they very well may be; they have
danced to this tune many times before. With smoothness unexpected for
all its familiarity, he draws her flush against him. They fit
perfectly. One thing she loves is how he always touches her, and true
to form he lets his hands sweep up and down her back. Long, smooth
strokes that both soothe her nerves and awaken her desires.

This close to him she can feel his hot, hard length. It pushes against
her, begging to be allowed into the warm depths of her body. With her
arms around his neck she is helpless to resist his hands framing her
face, drawing her close for a deep, searching kiss. His hand reaches
back, into her long blonde hair, as if to anchor her to him, and to
reality. His tongue duels with hers, a thrust and retreat that hints
of events to come.

Even with his lips on hers, she can still feel his touch. It seems to
scorch through her clothing. She can feel every touch as his hands
lightly cruise up and down her arms, then over her shoulders and along
her collarbone. She is alive, shivering with the sensations that send
tingles through her body, down between her legs, where it settles to
an aching warmth and liquid pool.

His hands drift lower, down to where they lightly cup her breasts. A
perfect handful. Now, touching her breasts, he can feel every inch of
the perky crests, straining towards his attention. He breaks the kiss
to set his lips cruising leisurely down her neck, hitting all the
sensitive spots he knows so well. Her breath catches, then releases in
a rush as he begins to slowly unbutton her white shirt.

Her eyes locked on his, she kicks off her heels, sending one
skittering across the wood floor to land under the sofa. As his hands
brush her breasts, her nipples tighten into hard, almost painful
points. Finally reaching the last button, his hands part the halves of
her shirt, revealing her to him. Her eyes close on a moan of pleasure
as he bends to take one sweet nipple into his mouth. Her hands fall
limply to her sides as he grabs the curve of her hips. He kisses and
licks all over her breasts, drawing ever diminishing circles until
finally, oh finally he suckles.

Her breath rushes out on a moan. He suckles her breast lightly at
first, then more deeply, trying to draw her further into him. As he
repeats the motions on her other breast, then switching between the
two, she runs her hands over his shoulders, trying to reach as much of
him as possible.

Realizing the temptation of her luscious body can no longer be denied,
he grabs her hand for the short walk to the bedroom. Once there, they
fall to the bed. His hands, before content to roam the upper half of
her body, now glide over her legs in teasing, tantalizing touches.
Dexterously, he flips the button on the denim skirt open and slowly
eases the zipper down. She lifts her hips to help him take it off.
Once free of her legs, it is thrown aside to land on the floor with a
soft thud.

Bared to his fully clothed gaze, she feels his every glance over her
body. One of his hands comes to rest at her hip, while the other
reaches between her legs to her softness. A low groan escapes him as
the realization that she is damp, drippingly wet washes over him.
Blunt fingertips spread her lips, then stroke up and down the length
of her slit, further arousing her passion. One finger lightly probes
the entrance to her honeyed depths, and then eases in, a tempting
reminder of the fullness to come. Another finger joins the one
thrusting into her as his thumb settles over her pearl. His hand works
slowly at first, then faster as her hips lift in rhythm. As she climbs
the peak towards climax, her alabaster skin takes on a rose glow.

She tightens on his hand and he knows she is oh so close. “Look at
me.” Her eyes flutter open at his soft command. Her pupils are
dilated, unfocused with desire. “Come for me, now.” At his words her
body trembles as her orgasm overtakes her. He savors her contractions
around his fingers, wishing it was another part of his body being so
intimately caressed. As she comes down from her peak, he slowly
withdraws his fingers.

He leans over her, kissing her again. He moves off the bed and quickly
sheds shirt, shoes, socks, jeans, and finally his boxers. He settles
back over her, letting her feel his weight and the strength of his
body, yet not crushing her.

She reaches up and runs her hands over him. Over his chest, reveling
in the taut muscle, then down, over his stomach, and further still, to
where his rod sticks out in jarring contrast to the nest of hair that
surrounds it. Almost delicately she touches him. Her hand encircles
him, and it is all he can do not to push against her, to thrust into
her soft hand. At the wicked gleam in her eye that promises much
teasing torture, he decides to take action.

He drives into her, savoring her warmth and wetness as she eases, then
clasps about him. He begins to thrust, rubbing against her sensitive
parts over and over. All too quickly they feel their climax reaching,
calling their names. She wraps her legs about his hips, and it proves
their undoing. With one final thrust she spasms around him again as he
shoots deep inside her hot warmth.

With a groan, he falls to the bed. Curling her against him, he brushes
a kiss over her hair. “I love you.” His words and the tender
expression on his face make her smile, “I love you too”.