It starts with the txt msgs, non stop, sultry, sexy, then hard core need. Those lead to a call with a voice mail left, vocally expressing the same as the txt. My heart and body is a flutter. Yes god I wanna, need to, have to, today! After days of teasing and begging and self graitification while thinking of the other, we finally establish a time and day that works for us both. The count down begins and I’m praying nothing changes our plan.

I can’t focus. I want all we have discussed, all the positions, all the finishes, the hands, the mouths, the connecting flesh. How can I decide on which will take place? It dosen’t matter as long as it does. I’m driving to you, to that place where we meet, to that place that melts me when I envision it. I’m nervous, even after all these years, I still get nervous. Perhaps it’s just anticipation, pent up, built up, greed. Yes that has to be it.

I’m waiting, watching for you, a mint melting in my mouth. My mouth already protesting, how could a mint ever replace what it truly craves. Then you arrive, and I’m a bundle of giddy, little girl finally getting her long awaited desire. I know your attire but love it so much when you surprise me and you’re casually dressed, either way is visual foreplay imagery, because I know what is beneath it all.

You’ll kiss me with eager hunger, hardly ever do you say hello first. Sometimes we never get to that polite greeting. I have to touch your bare skin, get beneath that clothing. My lips and tongue need to taste you. I have to hear you, give myself hope that I am giving you something you need, that you don’t already have. I’m learning you. What elicits a moan, what makes your fingers curl into my hair, how much time there is from the first kiss ’til my mouth envelops your hardness.

We go through the dance, occasionally adding a new step that will become a constant to our routine. Your hands find my throat, your fingers dip into my mouth after a light slap, and all the while you’re driving into me. Telling me what you want to hear escape my lips, and knowing they are my thoughts exactly. Our struggle changes, and I’m on top, grinding against you while I watch your expressions, listen for that intense growl that moves my hips and tenses my muscles. The clocks ticking.

We sit half dressed, adjusting our work clothes into proper order so no one will suspect. It’s called casual conversation. I feel as if it’s false. We established rules in week one. No emotions, it’s simply lust. You always depart first, with the heavy sigh that lets me know it’s time. I smile and nod, what else could I do? I say be safe, and check my phone for missed calls and msgs as if I had just stepped away from my desk for a moment.

Then it’s silent. I txt, you’re busy. I’m busy, you’re quite. How many weeks this time 3, or 6 months? So I cool, I don’t need it, it’s better over, we each have a lot to lose. I get back on track, focused, and it starts with a txt msg.

Original post by kitten