Long-awaited arrival

Every evening I wait, burning with impatience, for you to write about your arrival. Just a short message — "tomorrow." I desperately want to make plans about what I need to do — to worry whether I'll manage in time or not, and, falling asleep, to think over the outfit in which I'll meet you.

What should I please you with this time? A maid's costume? A schoolgirl's? Or, on the contrary, appear as a strict teacher? Sinking into slumber, where reality and dream are indistinguishable, when the touch of a silk sheet against bare skin feels like the touch of your hands, I crave you like never before. Hellishly, boundlessly, unbearably. The long-awaited fantasy replaces the whole world.

The intercom buzzes, and I frantically

adjust my dress one last time. Or the mesh? A revealing outfit, skillfully accentuating my body. There's nothing underneath. Not even stockings. I open the door and revel in your stunned silence. You haven't seen me in a long time, especially like this: slightly brazen, in a sexy outfit, in heels. Mmm, how I love the moment when your green-hazel eyes darken, and you take a sharp breath. I impatiently pull you into the hallway and start undressing you. Why do you need so many layers when I'm barely dressed? Off with the shirt, tie, and belt. Barely running my palm over your bare chest, I retreat into the room. It's daytime and the sofa isn't unfolded, but why bother? We rarely make it that far anyway. I turn my back to you and arch slightly, I want you to appreciate my ass in this lingerie. The fine mesh tightly hugs my hips, not hiding my desire. I flinch from an unexpected spank and feel you start kissing my ass through the mesh. I stand there, leaning on the back of the sofa, and realize not a single word has been spoken yet. The intimate silence is broken by your request to "close my eyes and not turn around." I gladly surrender to the power of your hands, lips, tongue.

You don't rush to lift the dress, and caress me through it. With playful movements, barely touching my heated pussy. I've been wet for a long time. (Probably even before you arrived?) And I delight in feeling you firmly squeeze my hips, how you kiss my buttocks, slowly moving lower. The dress had to be lifted after all, and now my body, unhindered by clothing, craves touch. Carefully, inhaling my scent, you caress my pussy with your tongue, massaging my sphincter with a finger. With light flicks of your tongue you tease. And with each minute it becomes harder for me to stand still, I so want to touch you, caress you, kiss you. My wetness has long been running down my legs, but you still enjoy my helplessness. You enter me with a finger, gathering wetness to then enter my ass, just with a finger for now, but I know you'll want there today too. It's always like this during the first meeting after a long separation. I hear the sound of a jeans zipper. Mrrr, so literally in a couple of seconds I'll be able to kiss the beloved cock I've missed so much. But no, you continue to tease, barely touching my pussy with your cock. I persistently push my ass back to meet you, you chuckle hoarsely and immediately enter me. Yesss, this is exactly what I've been waiting for so long: the feeling of being filled, of absolute union with you. You still don't move, just frozen inside me, letting me savor this moment. I straighten up, turning my head for a kiss, your hands slide up the dress, and you squeeze my breasts, slightly twisting my nipple through the mesh. Slowly I pull you towards the sofa, today I want to be on top, to partly take the initiative. I sit on you, kissing, nibbling your lip, place your hand on my thigh, I want you to squeeze my ass. More! I try to slowly lower myself onto your cock so you can feel how much I want you. You love it when I look into your eyes, licking my lips. I want to set a leisurely pace, but you forcefully push me down, faster and faster. I know you've been waiting a long time too. You reach for my breast, biting my nipple, and I tangle my hands in your hair. You're still squeezing my ass, spreading my cheeks, sometimes spanking me. And then your finger slips inside my sphincter, and my body responds to the forgotten caress with a shudder. You bite my neck, flip me over, and now I'm on all fours. I protest the absence of your cock inside me, but you compensate with your fingers, though the replacement is inadequate. I ask you to enter me, you love it so much when I ask out loud. I caress my clit with my fingers, twist my own nipple, why are you tormenting me? You thrust in sharply, now your fingers play with my clit, and my hands are on my breasts, a few minutes of furious movements, I'm already whimpering, incoherently begging for more. You bite my shoulder, coming just a moment before me. And feeling your cock pulse, I squeeze my nipple hard and join you.

I stand on the balcony, naked, not embarrassed by my nudity. It's already dark. I'm completely uninterested in the opinion of neighbors who happened to step out for a smoke, a neighbor grumbling to his wife that she's not as passionate in bed. It's just that I waited for you for so long that this time I didn't hold back my cries at all. You, after a shower, in a robe, come out to me, upset that someone might see me. You press me to you, shielding me from the cool breeze, wrapping us both in a mohair blanket. I glance back into the room, the mesh dress is on the floor, when did they manage to pull it off? In the heat of passion, I didn't even notice. You whisper that you liked the outfit, that I looked stunning in it, and warmth spreads through my body. I saw it in your eyes, but it's still nice to hear. A long kiss. You stroke my back and I feel your cock filling with blood, pressing against my stomach. I squat down. Before my eyes, your proudly erect cock. How long it's been since I caressed it with my tongue. My lips capture it and I suck the head, gradually taking it deeper and deeper into my mouth. You smile approvingly — "I missed this so much," I know, darling, me too. I lick the shaft, play with the frenulum. My favorite candy, so tasty, so hot. How I missed it in the evenings. You. Everything. Every night I languished in loneliness, without your hands and lips. Wetness runs down my thigh. I never made it to the shower... An absurd and unnecessary alarm clock beeps, announcing it's time to get up. And I sigh about the interrupted dream, but still smile contentedly, because all of this is yet to come. Today.

This is a first graphomanic attempt. Judge, but not too harshly (: