His wife had stolen him away for the weekend. Stolen... I suppose that's not really the right word since he's hers to begin with. But, dammit, she can have him any time she wants. My time with him is severely limited. And this was supposed to be MY time. I was absolutely crushed to hear that I didn't get to have him when I wanted him so desperately. I cried. I hate it when I cry over him. I had to apologize for my rather neurotically female outburst once I calmed down. But he is not my life. I have friends and interests and things to do outside of him. And I spent my weekend doing them. But I couldn't keep him from my mind completely and when he entered it, the pain was exquisite. I was dying to have him.
As is often the case, I woke up that morning inexplicably surrendered to the idea that I would do anything for him. If he wanted me, it didn't matter that I was supposed to be at home the night before or at the very least in time to work that afternoon. Or that I still had a five hour drive ahead of me. It didn't matter that his place was 30 miles in the wrong direction. I didn't even half hope that he wouldn't want me this time even though I knew I should get back. I would stay with him all day if he wanted me to. I wanted him to want me. I wanted him. If only he would fuck me, the pain of desire would be soothed for a while. However brief it had to be. It was worth it. It's always worth it.
I was not surprised to find myself driving to his house that morning.. For once, I wasn't even nervous. I wanted him so badly I didn't have room to feel anything else. He had told me the door was unlocked, but I knocked anyway. I prefer to have his permission. He opened it and ushered me inside, pulling me to him as soon as I was. He kissed me then. Long and deep and....sweet? His kisses melt me down. As badly as I wanted him, I became helpless in seconds as he tasted my lips.
"I'm sorry about this weekend."
"I know..."
We don't talk much. We spent a few minutes settling in and he brought me some coffee. I'm not really sure why we bother with the small talk in the first place, but we didn't bother with it for long this time.
"Come fuck me in my wife's bed."
I am ashamed to admit that I liked that thought. I hate her. Not her as a person. Not for any reason other than that she wants to keep me from him. I don't care if that's reasonable. I don't care if it hurts her. I hurt people I care about far more than her in order to be with him. I'm not proud of it, but I can at least recognize it for what it is. I want him too, dammit.
I grinned and followed him into the bedroom. We generally waste no time in delicately removing clothes, instead stripping down unceremoniously. It's better to be naked when we're together. He was quicker than me and waiting on the bed by the time I finished, his cock hard. My mouth watered. I met his eyes briefly before I turned all of my attention to it. I love his cock. I love everything about it. The shape, the color, the taste, the scent... It calls to me like a siren's song, drawing me ever closer to certain doom.
I made love to his cock with my mouth then. Sucking, licking, swallowing. He moaned appreciatively and left me to it this time. Often times he'll fuck my face, but today he laid back and let me worship his beautiful cock. And I did. He told me he loves the way I suck his cock. It's a good thing, because I love to suck it. I have never loved to suck cock before. But then, I've never found one so worthy of worship. I stroked it and shoved it down my throat as far as I could, gagging and choking only to go back for more a second later. I wish I never had to come up for air. I sucked long enough that my mouth was still sore the next day. It usually is. My face was a mess as I wiped away strings of saliva, breathing hard and trying to brush my hair out of my eyes.
"Come on up here and ride my cock."
Oh, how I longed for that invitation... To have him inside of me... Before I'd even begun to move, my body was ready for what it knew was coming. Him. Inside of me. An electricity so strong I can almost hear its hum courses through me when he is inside of me. My skin is hot and prickly. Inside is indescribable.
"Ride me and cum for me and tell me that you love me."
My heart pounded and ached. I wanted to say it so badly. He knew now. He wanted me to say it now. He wouldn't leave me when I did. But the words were still stuck in my throat, where they had been for so long.
"I love fucking you..." I breathed.
"That's not what I want to hear..."
I whimpered inwardly and buried my head in his neck as I writhed around on his cock, plunging him in and out of my absolutely dripping hole. I was breathless, helpless, looking into his eyes as I pleaded him silently for more. Always more. He feels so good. So good. Every movement, every pulse, sending me out of this world and into one where there is nothing but him. And his cock. Fucking me. My pace increased.
"That's right, cum for daddy."
The words echoed in my head... Daddy...
When I showed his picture to my mother the first time, her first words were, "He looks like your father." I had blinked and looked at the picture again. Oh, my god... he does. It's appallingly obvious. How had I missed that? He'd never used that word with me before, though. Maybe I should tell him he ought to be more careful with it lest he unleash something he's unprepared for. I'm a girl with some pretty serious daddy issues, after all. I wonder if he knows that about me.
As complex as that issue is for me, the words had the desired effect. My body responded and my pace increased even more. I braced my hands against the wall above his head and rode him hard. I fucked him fervently, my orgasm building with surprising ease. Like running up a staircase to nowhere, I took the steps two and three at a time, the excitement mounting as I approached the edge... and sailed right over it without a second thought. Without a care in the world. My orgasm brought with it a sense of freedom and relief and the words were finally released from my throat.
"I love you. Fuck... I love you..." I practically sobbed.
It almost didn't seem enough. Like those three simple words couldn't possibly express to him my desire, my unbidden and overwhelming love for him. But I couldn't think of anything else to say. So I said it again.
My orgasm did nothing to dull the sensations of his cock inside of me. He still felt incredible. Unbelievable. My body acted of its own accord, fucking him wildly and milking waves of pleasure that mounted and released like waves crashing on the shore. It wasn't until my body started to run down, my muscles tired and my breathing ragged, that I laid on my back and he hovered over me. It's almost menacing, the way he looks, hanging above me like that. I love it.
And then he fucked me. I laid back and opened myself to him, my pussy begging for his cock.. He obliged, so indulgent of my lust for him. He fucks powerfully, purposefully. I think the purpose is to make me a slave to his cock. That's certainly the outcome, at least. I panted and moaned and thrust into him as he pounded me. I hungrily eyed his body, savoring the look of his lean muscles flexed and bulging as he neared his own climax.
"I love you, baby..."
Over and over as he pumped his cum deep inside of me, still fucking, thrusting, shooting his seed into me.
He collapsed on top of me and I gripped his back tightly and wrapped my legs around him as we caught our breath.
"Wow..."
"...yeah..."
