Anticipation - 2

Leaving the plane, and the plane trip, behind me, I continued down 
the long, straight connecting tunnel which led to the gate. Ahead of
me, I could see the brightness of the opening over the heads of the
passengers in front. With every step it got bigger, and a few of the
anxious bright faces of greeters - friends, family, and lovers (I
couldn't help but grin) - became visible. With every step my excite-
ment mounted, and a thousand questions crowded in my head at once.
How would he look? How would he think I looked? How would we greet
each other? Should I just jump him, or allow him to set the precedent?
Would he be cool, or excited?
 
Would he still love me?
 
The low tunnel emptied out into the gate, and I spilled along with 
the rest of my crowd into the open. People were everywhere, pushing,
exclaiming, some hugging joyfully, some crying tearfully, and some
kissing passionately. I searched for one familiar face. The crowd
began to thin as the clumps of reunions wandered off towards baggage
claim. Finally, I was left by myself amongst a few stragglers, the
disappointment like a lead weight on my chest. He wasn't there.
 
He was stuck in traffic. He forgot the flight. He was in some horrible
accident somewhere. He was picking up flowers at the last minute. He
was...he was...
 
Well, wherever he was, he wasn't here. I sighed deeply and slowly 
trudged to the baggage claim, my eyes still scanning the near-empty,
late-night airport for him. Nothing. I gritted my teeth as I passed
a couple, passionately intertwined, obliviously groping each other
by a water fountain. Disgusting. There should be rules against that
sort of thing. That should be ME!
 
Then as I rounded them I caught a glimpse of the man's face and 
realized with a start that it was my former seat-mate from the plane.
I couldn't help but smirk and chuckle to myself as I thought what a
treat his girlfriend would receive later.
 
At the baggage claim I picked up my two bags and chose a lonely 
marble post to rest at. I dropped my bags against it and negligently
sat on them, chin in my hands, and continued to search through the
dwindling crowd. Hoping, but not expecting, the next face to come 
into view to be his.
 
And then, suddenly, it was. Unmistakably. And the look of him almost
stopped my heart. I knew that anxious look intimately, as I had had
it plastered on my own face for several minutes now. He darted through
the crowd at the baggage claim, head whipping around, eyes darting
furtively. For me. He was looking for me. He'd missed me. Of course.
 
I drank in the sight of him before he saw me. I always forget how 
tall he is, but he towers over the people around him. Somehow he looked
even larger in his starched, pristine white Navy uniform, and my 
pulsed raced at the sight of him in it. Whoever popularized the phrase
"I love a man in uniform!" was not kidding. Perhaps it was an implied
authority, or just the rugged manliness of it. But I got almost as
excited seeing him in it as I did seeing him out of it.
 
I caressed his broad shoulders, powerful chest, strong arms, thick 
waist, and long legs with my eyes. He was a hulking brute, I thought. 
But he was MY brute.
 
As I rose stiffly from my makeshift couch, at that moment he looked
my way, and caught my eyes. Wordlessly we approached each other, 
silently we met, desperately we fell into each other's arms. No
kissing, no groping, just a long, crushing, fulfilling hug. I buried
my face against his chest, he nuzzled my hair, and life was good again.
 
When we finally pulled away, we experienced a moment of awkwardness. 
We exchanged the how-was-your-flight, thanks-it-was-fine pleasantries,
while he picked up the heavier of my two bags, and I took the other.
We shuffled quietly out of the terminal and into the parking garage,
saying nothing more until we entered the elevator on the ground floor.
 
Once inside, though, my composure cracked. I dropped my bag, pulled
him towards me, and whispered, "Kiss me, Brian, I've missed you so 
much..." Without preamble, he gathered me into his arms and kissed me
hard, his tongue immediately delving into my mouth, claiming me. His
arms held me close, and I pressed myself closer, until I could feel an 
unyielding hardness against my belly button. It thrilled me to know I
did this to him, inspired this excitement in him by my mere presence.
I ground my hips against him, and he pressed closer, a moan escaping
his throat.
 
We would have torn at each other then and there but for the loud DING
of the elevator as it came to a halt and the doors slid open. Mercifully,
there was noone waiting just outside to witness our discomposure. We
separated reluctantly, took up the bags, and trundled to his car.
 
We talked casually in the car about little stuff, stuff so little it's
not even worth recalling. During the ride to the motel, though, I 
derived great pleasure from teasing him with my touch. His car was a
manual, so his hands were primarily occupied with the mechanics of
driving. But I had no such restrictions. I ran my fingers lovingly
through his hair, I rubbed the back of his neck, then slid my hand
down his arm. I squeezed his hand between shifting gears and then
rested my hand on his thigh. Occasionally, the car would hit a bump 
and my hand would 'accidentally' slip down farther on his thigh, 
resting lightly on the inner surface. Another jolt, and my hand moved
inwards, until my pinky just touched the cloth-clad hardness camped
between his legs.
 
So innocent, so unintended. His light chatter drifted off into silence,
and we both stared out the front window, he watching the traffic, I
watching the passing scenery. But through the pretense I knew he was 
wondering how far I would go with that left hand of mine. So far my 
touching had been intentionless. 
 
We stopped at a light, and started again. As he shifted from gear to 
gear, I could feel the shifting of his muscles through my hand on his
inner thigh. His strength excited me, and elicited delicious images of
his strength applied to a more erotic purpose. My thoughts surreptitious-
ly directed my actions, and by the time he had shifted into overdrive, I
had moved my hand to cradle his erection, not overly large but just as 
strong as the rest of him. I squeezed him firmly. His body tensed and I
heard the breath hiss out of him. He said nothing as I squeezed him 
again, then scratched my nails lightly over the fabric. 
 
I slowly teased him, taunted him, and me. The promise of ecstasy under 
fabric was more than I could bear. I hummed softly as I deftly fingered
the tab of his zipper, and slowly pulled it down. I reached inside his
fly and stroked his cock through one less layer of clothing, his briefs
all that were separating the heat of his skin from my eager hand.
 
Brian had always lamented the design of men's briefs, particularly the
annoying overlapped opening in the front. "What's the point of trying
to thread your penis this way and that way to get it out, when you can
just pull the waistband down under it?" Normally, he had a point. Right
now, I blessed that silly flap as my hand sank down into his underwear
and closed around his shaft, pressed up against his belly.
 
I looked up to peer at his reaction, and was rewarded. His eyes bored
straight ahead, intent on his driving, but his jaw was clenched, and
his nostrils flared with his accelerated breathing. His knuckles on
the steering wheel were white with tension. 
 
My heart thudded with excitement as I stroked his cock, the satin feel
of it making me almost dizzy with desire, which I voiced. "I want this,"
I said, "I want this so badly."
 
His jaw unclenched, and worked back and forth as if to relieve a kink, 
and he finally replied, "Jesus, Holly..." I heard the strain in his 
voice. "You know I can't stay with you when we get there..." He was 
referring to the fact that he had to return to his classroom and study
for his exam the next day, which is something I had understood and 
agreed to before I even bought the plane ticket. But that didn't mean I
had to like it. And I was going to make damn sure he didn't either!
 
I squeezed his cock again and slowly ran the soft part of my thumb over
his slit, pressing it downward and rubbing it slowly. I could feel the 
precum slick the skin of my thumb, and my heat escalated a notch. "So?"
I said, in my best 1-900 voice. The huskiness of it was so deep it 
surprised even me a little. 
 
Brian didn't even look at me, just gnashed his teeth and clutched the
wheel desperately. The car was speeding so fast I wondered if he had
the accelerator all the way to the floor. He finally worked up a 
reply, "So...goddammit don't TEASE me like this!!" he blurted. 
 
Ahha. So now _I_ had the control. I remembered a similar circumstance
in the distant but recently-remembered (heh) past when the roles had
been reversed. Again I felt a thrill of power. I was about to say 
something else when, with a grunt, Brian braked heavily and turned
abruptly, and with more than a little burnt rubber streaked on it, left
the street. I looked up to see we had arrived at the parking lot of the
motel. Awww...
 
As Brian parked, I removed my hand from his fly, with excruciating 
reluctance. He stared at me silently with eyes of fire as he brusquely
zipped himself up, then unbuckled his seatbelt and made as if to get
out. Instead he lunged across the gear shift, pinned me to the side of
the car, and ravaged my mouth. His hands slipped up my sides and roughly
fondled my breasts through my shirt for several long moments while he
kissed me. I was in heaven. Part of the pleasure of gaining control over
him has always been the part when he gets back at me. Just thinking of
how he would pay me back later left my pussy oozing.
 
Finally, he left me, panting and grinning (both of us!), while he 
checked in at the front desk of the motel. As I watched him walk away
from the car, I admired his ass (not a butt - it takes a special kind
of butt to be an ASS), and it occurred to me that he was parading 
boldly up to the reception desk with a raging hard-on, and I grinned
again. Another thing I loved about Brian was that he was never ashamed
for people to notice that he was turned on. While I waited I also 
dropped a hand between my legs to gently stroke my damp mound underneath
my shorts. I longed to drop them and help myself to several orgasms 
right then and there. Or better yet, jump Brian as soon as he came back
to the car, but I decided to prolong the agony until later. When I came,
I decided, it would be with his cock inside of me. There was no better
way.
 
To the reader: You're probably wondering by now, after these several 
pages of buildup, where the SEX is!! My thoughts exactly. To this point,
I had only had tastes of what was to come. The lovely orgasm on the plane, 
and the constant cock-teasing on the way from the airport, had me primed
so much for sex, so much for a good, hard fuck, that my sex-fogged brain
was struggling all the way from the parking lot to our room to form a 
reconciliation between my raging need which threatened to burn me up from
the inside-out, and the necessity of waiting until Brian could return to
me at the motel later.
 
Brian set my luggage down on the doorstep to our room and opened the 
door with our room key, then set my stuff just inside the door. Before
I could move to enter the room myself, however, he put one arm around me,
stooped, and swept me off my feet. I stuttered speachlessly, and he 
quieted me with a quick, soft kiss. "I know it's not our honeymoon, but
it might as well be," he said. 
 
That was it for me. I didn't know whether to come or cry. What I did do
was allow Brian to ease me through the door and set me gently down, then
I reached both arms around him and pushed the door shut with a slam,
effectively caging him against the door. Then I dove for his neck, my
lips and tongue making a bee-line for his hot spot at the base of his
throat. I sucked and tongued it madly while my hands rapidly undid the
belt at his waist. Before he could object I shoved his pants and briefs
out of the way, and hauled his stiff prick out into the open. It looked
thick and purple-red and absolutely gorgeous between our bodies like
that, and I wanted nothing more than to just stuff it into my aching
cunt and ride him until I died of pleasure.
 
Sadly, that was not to be. Even then Brian had just started to recover
his wits enough to try to stop me, unintelligibly mumbling something
about having to get back to the classroom. I slapped one hand over his
mouth with one hand, and stroked his straining cock with the other, as
I efficiently explained the situation: "Brian, now I can't possibly be
so cruel as to send you back to study with THIS," at which point I 
tugged gently on his shaft, "distracting you the whole time. You'd 
never get anything done, and you'd fail your test tomorrow." I removed
my hand from his mouth and sank down to my knees, so that I was eye 
level with his glorious cock. "Besides," I said to it, my breath
caressing it hotly, "this will only take a minute." Indeed, I fully 
expected him to shoot about as fast as a Navy ballistic missile.
After all, it had been three months of waiting, and several, several
minutes of teasing. Finally, my case pled, I closed my lips over his
cockhead and sucked.
 
The moment my mouth encompassed the head of his prick, Brian's 
objections stopped, and he began moaning. Obviously, he had seen the
wisdom of my irrefutable arguments. His hands found my hair, and wound
themselves through the silky curls, using it to pull my head further 
into his groin. For my part, I dispensed with the finesse I usually
exhibit when fellating him. My purpose this time was simply to suck 
him off as quickly as possible. Without preamble I swallowed the entire
length of his shaft, lodging his knob firmly into the back of my throat,
and turned on the suction full throttle. My cheeks caved in, and my 
tongue plastered itself to the underside of his cock, rubbing up and
down. Brian went wild, and with his hands still in my hair, began 
thrusting his hips against me, fucking his cock into my mouth rapidly.
 
Reader, I would love to draw this out, long and hot, in apology for 
taking so long to get here. But I wasn't kidding about the ballistic
missile gag (no pun intended). Within minutes, Brian was shooting
three months worth of stored cum down my throat, and I was diligently
swallowing every bit of it as if they hadn't fed me on the plane. By
then his cock was jammed so far back into my throat I literally didn't
taste a thing. Dang.
 
While he was busy filling my gullet with his hot sperm, I looked up to
watch him. This was, absolutely, the best reward I could have under the
circumstances. Whenever I'm not cumming myself, I love to watch him. To
me, the pleasure reflected in his face is one of the most beautiful
things in the world. He didn't make a sound. He never does when he
orgasms. He held his breath and squeezed his eyes tightly shut, and
while his face turned bright red, he tossed his head back and forth
from side to side. He looked for all the world like a baby being born.
It would have been a tossup as to what side of me it truly appealed to,
the lover in me or the mother in me. No matter.
 
When he was finally done, I gently released him from my mouth. Brian 
finally allowed himself to exhale explosively, his body shuddering one
last time, and his head fell back to bump with a soft thud against the
door at his back. His death grip on my hair loosened, and he stroked
my head with infinite gentleness and gratitude while I licked his 
shrinking penis clean with loving strokes. I then carefully replaced
it into his briefs as if I were laying a baby to rest, which I was.
I knew it would wake up later to be fed again. With a nurturing touch
I tucked him in and smoothed his briefs over him. Finally, I stood.
 
When I stood fully erect, I looked up to meet his gaze. The love that
I saw there was heart-stopping. My heart did not stop, but my love for 
this man was so overpowering it brought tears to my eyes. A salty
droplet streaked down my cheek. Brian kissed my forehead and pulled me
to him in a tender embrace, and we held each other that way for a long
moment. "I love you," he said. "I love you too," I said. Cliche, but 
true.
 
Finally, I stepped away from him, and assisted in replacing his Navy
issue trousers to their regulation spiffiness. I had so conscientiously
swallowed his cum that not a drop marred their pristine whiteness. The
only blemish in his otherwise immaculate uniform was a damp spot, located
approximately over his heart, where some of my tears had soaked into his
shirt. He noticed my scrutiny, then the spot, and smiled back at me. 
"It'll dry," he said. 
 
He kissed me one last time, promised to be back in a few hours, and eased
out the door, closing it quietly behind him. 
 
>From the time he had carried me into the motel room, to when he shut the
door behind him, less than ten minutes had passed. And already I looked
forward bleakly to the next few hours, and eagerly to his return. My 
frustrated pussy still throbbed with denied need, but the orgasm score was
now tied. I had given us both a taste of what was to cum. And I was hungry
for more!
 
End of Part II - Anticipation
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