You are awake by the time I get out of the shower and dry my hair. You complain - loudly - when I begin to dress. I would be content to spend your entire visit there in the bed with you, but you didn't travel 1500 miles just for that. Or did you?
"I'd love to see your city."
And I'd love to show it to you. We decide to grab a bite to eat at a local Afghani restaurant. You surprise me with your knowledge of Middle Eastern cuisine. I surprise you by ordering a side of hot sauce. You didn't know I liked it spicy.
"Learning more every day," you smile.
Dinner is delicious and our conversation floats on hushed voices across the close confines of our little nook. Perhaps the aura surrounding us, the way we need to touch at all times, has led the maitre'd to usher us into this intimate corner. Whatever his reasoning, I am grateful. You look amazing in the low light. The smoke of a nearby hookah curls around the soft tendrils of your hair; caressing where I cannot. Neither of us can stop staring.
After a small, playful disagreement, you allow me to pay for dinner. I can tell by the look in your eye that I can expect to be pampered for the rest of the night, if not longer. You are gracious, though. You realize how much the little things mean to me, like being able to treat you to a meal in my city; a city that will soon belong to both of us.
Stepping out from the cozy little eatery into the hustle and bustle of the local nightlife brings a twinkle to your eye. I watch, amused and amazed, as your beautiful eyes drink in everything that unfolds before you. People of all ages, creeds, colors and in various states of dress parade the sidewalks. Cafes spill their clientele into cobblestone streets that usher expensive cars to expensive bars. You laugh at a gaggle of young girls trying to traverse the uneven terrain in their stiletto heels. I inform you that it is a local pastime, to watch these suburban gazelles; one that is especially amusing in the wintertime when the ground is icy. I flash a wicked smile at your surprised expression.
"You have an evil streak! I love it."
Arm in arm we stroll along, letting the current of our mood take us wherever it wants to. We end up in front of one of the older rock clubs where some promising sounds greet us through the open door. Silently, we agree that this is worth checking out. You laugh when the bouncer asks me for ID. I have to smile at his reaction and then blush as he winks at you.
You've been touching me all evening; small brushes of your fingertips or firm guidance around tiny dangers from your hands. Always looking out for me. Always aware. And yet, in the tightly packed club, I feel your presence grow ten times as we press towards the stage. I feel your protectiveness around me like a shield and it warms me. I squeeze your hand as it rests upon my hip. Unable to resist, I turn and kiss you quickly, noticing the looks from some of the other patrons. Envious of me, I'm sure.
The band, having ended the song that drew us in, surges into a new tune. The beat pulsates and my body moves instinctively. You are not a dancer, but I sense your movement behind me; your rhythm mimicking my own. I press my ass back into you as your arms slip around my waist. As loud as the music is, I hear you moan and know that your eyes are on my neck; your lips itching to land there. You make me bold.
I wiggle into you a bit more before catching the eye of a guy next to us who is also enjoying the show I'm putting on for you. He smiles and glances nervously over my shoulder to you. You don't notice him. I wink at him, falsely promising to play. Evil indeed.
He turns his attention away from the band just as yours is drawn to the guitarist. Slipping away from you a little, I start dancing with him, swinging my hips and raising my arms above my head. Closing my eyes, I can feel your gaze upon me as this man draws nearer, daring to grasp my hips and pull me to him. I allow it, only to turn my back to him and fix my eyes in yours.
Now the two of us are putting on a performance for you. He is whispering in my ear, but it is your voice I hear.
You're hot. Man. So hot. Love your ass.
Your expression is dark. Hungry. I can see the outline of your cock straining against your jeans, just as I feel his pressing into my backside. The graze of his hand on my breast brings me out of my reverie and I dance away from him, turning to explain that my 'boyfriend' wasn't happy with the show. He pouts, but smiles and gives you a salute. I don't know what you do in return, since I cannot see your face, but his smile wilts and he recoils back into the crowd.
Immediately, I feel you pulling me away from the front of the stage. I bounce from body to body as you pull me along. Your grip is strong around my wrist and I begin to wonder if maybe I'd gone a little too far. But then you stop and take me by the shoulders, pushing me against a nearby wall; pinning me there. I search your eyes, in an attempt to discern your mood. They are locked on my mouth.
To call it a kiss would be a disservice. You don't kiss me, you devour me. One hand in my hair, the other on my ass, my breath is short. My head is spinning as your tongue establishes its dominance over my senses. I have no idea where we are, only that I am spiraling out of control. I am only dimly aware of others standing next to us and the sounds of the band and the crowd. All I really see, feel, hear and know is you. You everywhere.
You stop abruptly, and your eyes are wild. You look me over, as if you don't know what to do next, and then our gaze locks. I know that my expression must mirror yours; the glassy eyes, the swollen lips, the heaving chest, the shaking. We need to leave.
I take your hand, squeezing it for reassurance, and you lead us out of the club and back into the night. We don't speak until we get back into our room and behind the locked door. And not even then.
We come together slowly. Things have changed. The kisses are tentative, uncertain. We fumble with buttons and zippers. The first contact of your fingers on my skin causes a sharp intake of breath. You stop moving and we stare. You kiss me, long and deep. So deeply that I feel weak afterwards. Your arms engulf me and you hold me close. Tightly pressing my body to yours; molding us together. I inhale and you exhale.
I feel you peppering kisses along my collarbone and I do the same. We move towards the bed and fall onto it in a heap, not letting go. Your kisses travel down my body, over and across each breast. My nipples become almost painfully erect under your tongue. You lavish each one with so much attention, while I trail my fingers across your back, neck and shoulders.
You settle your chest between my legs and continue to kiss down my stomach, stopping when you reach the waistband of my panties. You rest your forehead on my tummy and wrap your arms around my back. I run my fingers through your hair and massage your shoulders. I feel your cock pulsing against my lower leg, but you don't move. I wonder what you are thinking, and why you have stopped.
"I've never met anyone like you before."
Likewise.
"I'm so close to losing control."
You begin to trail your fingertips behind my back and it arches. I can't stop the moans. Again, I feel your lips against my skin and the combination of that and your finger work along my back has my juices flowing freely. You nuzzle the curve of my mons with your nose, inhaling deeply. You chuckle.
You slip the elastic of my undies off my hips, over my legs and off. Once again I am laid out before you. Naked, and in more than one way. You place a gentle kiss on my outer lips and lap at the juices collected there, but you don't stay long. Before I have a chance to protest, however, you are once again above me. Instinctively, I wrap my legs around you and you slip inside me in one long stroke.
Your eyes close and I can tell that you are straining; trying to maintain that control. How is it that I can do this to you? How did I get so lucky? You smile into my eyes and lower your head for a kiss. I taste myself on your tongue and we both moan.
Slowly and steadily you slide in and out of me, but the need is too great for us both to keep such a leisurely pace. Strokes turn into thrusts. Thrusting becomes slamming and soon you are pounding into me deliciously. The sounds of our moans and cries echo throughout the room and beyond, but we don't care.
You swell inside me, the mushroom head of your cock hitting my sweet spot over and over. Over and over. I feel the precipice fast approaching. And I know you are close. You catch my eye and I take your face into my hands, meeting your lips with a kiss.
I wrap my arms around your back, silently asking for your full weight upon me, which adds more pressure to our already deep thrusts. You grunt loudly, and I echo with my own cries. We are coming together. Becoming. I love you. I whisper into your ear, sweet somethings.
You explode, filling me to overflowing as I squeeze and pulsate around you with my own orgasm. Our bodies are convulsing in unison; a perfectly synchronized dance. Our hearts pound in our chests as we struggle for normal breathing. Struggle to stop the world from spinning.
As we float back down, we caress with soft touches and softer words. I feel you stirring inside me as we lay joined. I'm closer to you than I have ever been to another. I don't want it to end. As if reading my mind, your cock grows to its full and amazing length within me. I convulse around you and you smile.
"The night is young."
That it is.
Originally published January 2007 - "Happy Nude Year!"