Surprise
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I cracked open his back door and silently entered on tiptoes. My high heels in my right hand, I traced a path along the wall for the light switch. It felt familiar and helped me find my way though I could not turn it on. The kitchen was black, illuminated only by the moonlight coming through the window, casting a deep blue shadow on the wall opposite. The bag hanging from my wrist contained his favorite dish, chicken marshal made especially by my hands. Next to it laid a small tray of chocolate chip cookies, another favorite of his.
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I felt a chill beneath my overcoat and remembered beneath it was only my lingerie, a lace panty and bra set, another surprise for him. I grit my teeth as the cold kitchen sent another shiver through my body. Beneath the while lace of my bra I could feel my nipples swell. Placing the bag on the kitchen table I carefully crept down the hall, my stocking feet making not a sound as I move down the hall.
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He had to cancel our plans due to overwork. I'd seen it before, his new position took a lot out of him and I'd rather he get his rest for the night than fall asleep on me like he did last week. We’d planned to spend Saturday together once he got off work on Friday. I met him several months ago and we had dinner. That night we went back to his house and starting kissing and running our hands all over each other’s bodies. Then impulsively I unzipped his pants and went down on him. He swore that it was by far the best blowjob that he’d ever gotten. I pushed my body so close to his and wrapped myself around him while sucking and licking like there was no tomorrow. After that night we didn’t talk for about two weeks. Then he called me and asked me to come to dinner. I did and after dinner I gave him another fine blowjob. After that night we had a perfect sexual relationship.
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I thought about him all the time and wish that we could work out how to be lovers more often. He made me the happiest woman in the world. I miss him, missed being near him. We had grown so close in the few months we'd been dating. I'd even been wondering if this one could go the distance. He had everything I ever wanted. He was cute, affectionate, understanding, and so sweet that he made me feel flustered. Sometimes I felt like a giggly teenage girl around him. I swooned, resting against the dark hallway as I imagined him. He was an exquisite lover as well, with almost a precognition of what I want. He touched me exactly how I liked and knew my body better than I did myself. Gripping his body to mine, always gave me a heady rush. Unable to resist his charisma, I would give it up to him nightly as he took me willingly, draining me while he fulfilled my of every need, of every breath.
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We have the perfect amount of submissive and dominant. He likes to take off my clothes but leave on my bra. He puts me on your knees and fuck my mouth. I let him cum on my stomach, in my mouth, all over my breasts, on the sheets, wherever he wants. Sometimes I let him tie me up and fuck me, call me a dirty whore. Occasionally I would even spend nights as his sex slaves, crawling across the floor to suck him off. I would beg for my cock.
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I could see the no light beneath his door but could hear him breathing deeply. My ear to the doorframe listening, I imagined him sleeping and smiled to myself. It's late, almost two in the morning, of course he's exhausted, poor thing.
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I loved to watch him sleep. Nights we'd spend together I'd curl up against his chest as his warm breath soothed me. He had a scent all his own, a comforting, light scent, masculine and sexy. I loved waking up covered in his scent. After we'd make love he would lie nude beside me, his flaccid cock resting contentedly on my thigh. I'd snuggle close, burying myself between his shoulder and neck and cover his heated skin with kisses. My cheeks turned crimson just thinking about it. It's been so long since we’ve had that.
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His body was so perfect for me that I yearned for it again. If only I could just see it, that would be enough for now. I'd make my way out and return late tomorrow morning to spend the day with him.
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Hesitantly I inched the door slowly open. I held my breath, thankful that it made not a sound. The room was bathed in moonlight and it took me a moment for my eyes to adjust. He was sprawled across his king size bed, the top sheet only covering below his left knee. His legs were opened, his knees bent. As I watched his body quivered slightly, the long muscles in his thighs tensing. A pillow was folded behind his neck, propping his face up slightly. His eyes were closed as if in deep concentration and his lips parted slightly. I could almost see the quick breaths coming from his mouth. His chest was rigid and his arms draped over them, almost crossing at his crotch.
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I gasped as I realized what I was seeing. He was gently running his curled hand up and down the rigid shaft of his engorged cock. I eyed it adoringly, long and thick, filling his palm completely. How I adored that part of him. It always felt so splendid embedded to me, relieving all my wants. Now it seemed to pulse with a life of it's own, working in tandem with his left hand. Its rounded head was a deep pinkish-purple and flared with each stroke. His other hand playfully gripped his balls, jostling them and rolling them between his fingers. I made a mental note to remember this next time we were alone.
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What drew me in was not just his imposing body, sleek and muscular spread out on his bed, but the intensity he showed even in sleep. He was completely immersed in what he was doing. His body roiled, shook and stretched. Every muscle seemed to be working in concert for the one purpose of bringing him pleasure. I thought back to my Art History class Freshman year and the sculpture of David I studied, how D' Vinci made reams of sketches of the human body outstretched and posed, such a perfectionist. I could easily see how he resembled those bare sketches, a perfect example of the male body in motion. And his face, expressing such gleeful pleasure was completely unaware of all but himself, in nirvana. How I longed to be the cause of such an expression.
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I eyed his crotch hungrily, his cock, which I had loved and been loved by. The cock I whispered to and rested my cheek on when I slept, seemed more alive than I'd ever seen. He knew it so intimately that he played himself like a fine instrument. It looked almost feral, what he was doing, yet it seemed so blissful. I knew I was intruding on something so intensely personal that I was never meant to see, something I must never mention, nor forget.
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As his lips parted, I saw his eyes flutter beneath their lids. I wanted to rush forward and kiss him, take his mouth in mine at this special moment but I couldn't move. My nails dug into the doorframe. I couldn't look away if I tried. With a deep, grateful moan his body seemed to relax. A moment passed before his shaft swelled to his fullest and his thick white cum spewed powerfully from its head, splattering his chest. I counted two...three...four...five spurts before it slowed, and the liquid started running down his shaft and between his fingers.
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my entire body tingled, and with a gargantuan effort I soundlessly step back. Gently closing the door, I willed my body to move. What I had seen had made me speechless. My mouth drooped open and my head swam with questions and feelings. How often? What does he think about? What should I do? Most of all I was driven by the idea of his complete pleasure. He had seemed so happy, so fulfilled by this one solitary act. Watching him do it pleased me too.
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I knew I would have trouble sleeping tonight so I pledged to call him in the early afternoon after I’d gotten a good rest. One thing's certain; he would be in my dreams tonight and many nights hereafter, wantonly pleasuring himself.
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The end…
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