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I stared lamely at the screen, in slight disbelief. My eyes travelled the conversation in the IM box over and over again. I read in some sort of guilted horror, the teasing, the flirting, and the blatant invitation. My mind barely making sense of the moment he clearly committed to that blatant invitation.
He was coming over. No accident this time. No momentary lip-locking while under the influence. No illusions of 'going for a ride' or 'watching a movie'. It was right there in Times New Roman. I desperately wanted to suck a cock. And he was willing to deliver.
It was just teasing really; I didn't think anything would come of it. Even as I hurried about my room stashing away dirty clothes and putting the paper towels conveniently within reach, I still expected him to flake out. I expected him to recall that his girlfriend was waiting at home in his bed, expecting him to get off work soon. I expected to wait for an hour or so before getting a message that said he was 'just kidding' or 'didn't think we were being serious'. That would be best really. But as I looked at the screen a new message scrolled up.
*quot;I'm here.*quot;
My stomach felt like it would float away. My knees were shaking and my palms were sweaty. I couldn't seem to catch my breath. But I still turned the handle, and went to the back stairwell peeking through the door that led to the parking lot. I thought I would choke on my own breath as I saw him standing there.
I let him in and immediately turned for the stairs. Walking away from him quickly, as I keyed the door and then re-entered the hallway, I was all business. I had to be. As we walked inside my room, he made some comment about the white wife-beater I wore being a nice touch. I said something sultry and casual to make it seem like it wasn't for his sake. But that was a lie. The lights were off. There was music playing. I was wearing an opaque white wife-beater with no bra underneath and loose gym pants that I knew hugged my ass, but hung from my hips. There was nothing casual about the eyeliner I had carefully applied in my hurry to get ready in the half an hour I had. This was all a farce. No doubt he knew it.
As I went to shut off the final light that hung over my desk, deciding belatedly that it was too bright and I needed darkness to bolster my courage. The light flicked off as I sucked in one last breath to grow my bravado; then I turned to him, taking two steps forward to close the distance between us as he stood, still in his shoes, but with his jacket off and hanging on the hook behind him.
I pressed to him after a moment's hesitation, taking cebeci escort the moment to marvel at his height as he towered over me and the unfamiliar feeling of it. But it didn't stop me for long, our lips finally meeting again after I silently tortured myself by playing the details of that night over and over in my mind throughout the week. The kisses were hurried and almost surprisingly tender and familiar. His tongue licked over mine a few times to deepen the kiss but we both knew the kissing was as much a farce as the rest of it. My hand wriggled between our bodies, moving with only a few second-thought-passes at his thighs and pelvis. But it found its target, as my fingers wrapped around the length of his cock through his tight fitted jeans.
I stroked him through his jeans, rubbing intently at the bulging head once I found it, our lips still meeting in the half forgotten kisses. He would lean forward every so often to set teeth into the taut flesh of my neck, harder this time than the last; it startled me a bit. But my hand still kept at its work, my mind dimly thinking that he might still stop me. Any moment he would push me away and say something redeeming like:
*quot;I just can't do this. I'm sorry.*quot;
Then run dramatically out the door as I stood there alone and frozen, watching him go.
But he didn't.
Even as I slid down his body, pressing kisses to his T-shirted chest as an afterthought while I made my way down to my knees.
I had a moment to smirk to myself, dipping my chin and laughing in my thoughts, mostly at myself as he sucked in his stomach when my fingers found the button of his jeans. But as the button popped open and my fingers pulled the zipper down, I forgot all of the disillusioning details of the moment including the smell of Mexican food that hung thickly in the air around him. Shaking my head at myself, I pressed forward to wrap the head of his cock in the warmth of my mouth as it lay to the side, trapped beneath his boxer briefs. I sucked and kissed at the head until the material was wet with my saliva.
Not bothering with the annoying little combination-lock-opening at the front, I tugged the waist of his boxer-briefs down until his cock sprang free. Barely taking time to even note its size or appearance in the dark, I leaned my face forward and wrapped my lips around the head and sucked. He immediately moaned above me from the feel of my wet mouth sucking at his cock, my tongue lapping at it and swirling around it, tracing its details with the wet muscle.
With my hand wrapped around the base, I pulled myself çukurambar escort off his cock with a string of saliva trailing from my lips to the head before my hand moved to replace my mouth, using the saliva to make slick frictionless pumps on the head of his cock. It nestled into my palm as my fingers rubbed up and down the top of the shaft and the butt of my palm rubbed at the bottom. Slick, wet sounds punctuated the air as I stared intently at my work on his cock, his hand on my shoulder for balance as he seemed to be taken off guard.
I kept at it, rotating between sucking at it with my mouth as I rolled my eyes up to look at him, his face looking back down at me; then returned my hand to palming at the soaked head, my other hand pumping at the base. Feeling daring and somehow brave and uninhibited, I rubbed the head over my lips and into my cheeks, then rubbed it up and down on my tongue, my two hands wrapped tightly around the base and pumping so that only the head of his cock peeked through and that was being lapped at and rubbed onto my tongue as I opened my mouth wide to allow it. Above me I heard sputtering half sentences, mixed with moans and startled sounds as I continued to experiment intently with my work. My illusions that this man was out of my league, untouchable and immune to my wiles came to a crashing halt, as I marveled at the power I wielded while I worked his throbbing cock.
He waivered and seemed like his knees were weak as he managed to remain standing above me, I remaining comfortably on my knees below him. There were distant tries at sensuality and playing into my desires as I heard him say:
*quot;Such an enthusiastic slut.*quot;
I dimly replied, *quot;I told you.*quot;
Before I wrapped my mouth around his cock again and used my hand to pump it into my mouth, apparently cutting off his ability to form words. Good.
There was a moment's warning as he told me he was about to cum, and a moment's hesitation from me as I had to decide if I would follow through with the dirty fantasy I had detailed to him before, the one that brought him here so quickly to lend a helping.. hand. Shoving my inhibitions into the back of my mind I stayed my face in front of his cock, moving my hand off of it to help the other pump the shaft.
It startled me that I didn't realize when the first warm spurt hit my cheek, marveling a moment as something I had always staunchly refused to allow...was happening. More hot spurts of cum hit my cheek, then my lips as I turned my face, even pressing the head to my skin and lips as I painted myself with his cum, ankara escort closing my eyes and reveling in it as he seemed similarly surprised and mystified.
I pumped my hand up the length of his cock and over the head a few more times, the path now slick with his cum. He folded forward and backed away trying to get out of my reach as he giggled like a girl, trying to get free of my hand as it overwhelmed his now-overly sensitized cock.
I moved without much artifice to the paper towels, blotting the cum away from my face as some trailing thoughts screamed about my apparent intense dislike for that sort of thing, even as a smile stayed on my lips and a feeling of contentment warmed my chest and torso.
I moved to press to him again, and we stood there in my tiny room for long moments. He held me and stroked fingers through my hair, down my arms, over my back. My face curled into his chest, as I just absorbed the attention and affection like the scarce commodity that it was.
We eventually moved to the bed, cuddling casually on each other both still remarkably fully clothed, his shoes still on. He regaled me with the brilliant explanation he had prepared about a late shift change, and an employee calling in sick. I had a momentary pang of guilt. We however joked and chatted comfortably as though it were the most average thing in the world.
The moments following are what have left a hollow feeling in my stomach now, as I would casually place his hand on my breasts. He would make lazy attempts at cupping them, stroking them, peaking my nipples, all the while checking the time every few minutes.
He finally leaned over me, as I lay on the bed now, with my legs across his lap, to press a quick kiss to my lips, his cum flaking on my skin.
*quot;Time to go.*quot; I said it for him.
He agreed with me, as he drew on his jacket and headed without much backwards glance to the door. He did turn. He did make a few more passes at kissing me and my shameful face, painted so by his own seed. Even ruffled my hair affectionately, and waited as I reminisced about him doing that very thing four years ago when our story had started. Then he stepped out into the hall, I shrinking away from the bright lights and any flaws they would reveal, and then he left.
I stripped out of my shirt, that had his cum drying on it and moved to the bathroom, intent on washing my face. I moved about my room then, taking out my contacts and brushing my hair away from my face. Somehow I wasn't even able to masturbate as I had so enthusiastically done after our last encounter, feeling drained and empty as I methodically got ready for bed. I marveled dimly on how what would normally be such an intense and sensual scene left me feeling this cold and numb feeling in the pit of my stomach. And as I lay down to sleep, I closed my eyes as tight as I could, to keep the guilty tears from escaping.