Two weeks. It seemed like an eternity. Not seeing my lover in two weeks was wrenching. Time moved slower and slower.
“I’m pulling in now,” I text. “Air conditioning. Put it on. We are going to make enough body heat,” I add.
I knock on the hotel room door and he pulls me into his arms. That embrace. His smell. His chest. His body hair, soft and darkly curling. He’s naked save for a white towel at his waist. I can feel his dick pushing at my stomach. Oh, I’m fucked and we haven’t even started yet.
He hurrily pulls off my clothes…and pushes me back towards the bed. His strong hands are tracing my curves and his tongue is softly lapping at my pussy. I reach down to touch the top of his shaven head and push my hips into his face. “Mmmm…yes, right there. Ohhhh.”
Taking his time to turn me on. This is a mature man that doesn’t rush sex. It’s leisurely and paced. Sometimes, frantic with desire but never rushed. He waits for my build up. He knows what I need. I don’t even have to say it.