Eight days. Eight days since they had last seen each other. Eight days since their passion had last been allowed to flame. Eight days since they had held each other, tasted each other, taken their pleasure from each other. Eight days of frustration, anticipation and hunger; fuelled by the medium of ever more graphic text messages.
He knocked on her door. As she opened it to him, those eight days faded into the past.
Upstairs, in the bedroom, their lips pressed firmly together, they undressed each other with a slowness that belied the urgency of their desire. Deliberately, they chose to let the anticipation build, the arousal deepen, rather than surrender instantly to their hunger for each other.
Naked, on the bed, they explored each other’s bodies with their fingers and lips; reacquainting themselves with every inch of each other’s body.
Hungry to taste her, he moved between her legs. No teasing was required; he knew she wanted to feel his tongue on her.
Licking, kissing, feasting on her, he ate his fill, driving her to one glorious climax after another. His questing fingers, probing inside her added to the intensity of her feelings, increasing her pleasure.
She responded in kind, teasing him with her lips; flicking her tongue over and around his cock; feeling his stiffness, delighting in his moans.
And then he was above her, entering her, filling her. At last they were together; him inside her, her accepting him. Their bodies moved as one. The sound of their passion filled the room. Their hunger and desire for each other finally released in one long, hard, satisfyingly intense fuck.
He came hard. She shook beneath him; clenching him, holding him inside her as he released.
They lay, exhausted, curled up together. She felt warm and content in his embrace. Their immediate need satiated; their hunger quenched, their desire unleashed.
©Kilted Wookie May 2015